Underwearing
by ShreddingRibbons
Summary: sometimes we find out things about the people we live with. sometimes they're good, and sometimes they're things we'd rather not have realized. sometimes we find out that our female housemate shut-in washes our dirty underwear, and it disturbs us. sunakyo
1. Soiled

Disclaimer: These scrumptious men do not belong to me, and neither do the lovely Sunako and Noi, who are only mentioned in this chapter, but at least one of them will be starring in the next. Hope you enjoy. (Lots of SunaKyou in next chapter, not much in this one)

"Takenaga? Pass me those chips."

"Here."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

Four equally dazzling men sat in the Nakahara mansion living room. Yuki and Takenaga stretched out on couches, Ranmaru stalking about by the windows, and Kyouhei thrown out like an animal rug on the plushly carpeted floor, slowly eating the chips Takenaga had passed him. He wasn't all that hungry, and the chips weren't too appetizing, but mindlessly eating was at least something to _do._

The four stared at each other. They were so _bored. _There should have been something to do, but the TV connection was out, due to a storm many miles away, and none of them had any dates. Even Sunako, who was always a good source of entertainment, was doing housework, and had threatened to feed them their own dirty laundry while they slept if they didn't leave her the hell alone and find something productive to do.

_I can't believe she does our laundry, _thought Kyouhei, dragging his fingers through the matted carpet fibers, _even our underwear for kami's sake…_Suddenly the strawberry blond was up and at'em, his eyes wide and brows high on his forehead. Takenaga slowly raised his head from where he had been hanging it over the armrest, eyes glazed and spacey.

"What is it?" his voice came out as slowly as if he'd just suffered some severe brain damage, and Kyouhei rolled his eyes at the Takenaga heir.

"I just realized something."

"And what might that be?" Ranmaru half sang, drifting over in hopes of finding something interesting to focus on.

"Sunako washes our underwear." At first they all nodded at him like he was stupid or something, their thoughts still as thick as molasses, but then they all stopped nodding and looked at each other in realization. "She knows exactly what we wear, and I bet she even irons them with all the care she puts into her laundering. Hell, can you imagine someone, a girl, Sunako for god's sake! touching _you're _dirty underwear? Well, can you Ranmaru?"

"Hey, don't you direct this at me!" the redhead cried, raising his hands as if to deflect Kyouhei's words. Yuki looked almost comically mortified.

"I feel…gross." The innocent blond admitted, wiping his sweaty palms on the thighs of his jeans, "Like I've disrespected Sunako. I can't believe I hadn't thought about it before!"

"I feel that way as well. And to think, poor Sunako! She's never even been with a boy like that and she's washing all of our underwear! I wouldn't even let Noi do that." Takenaga agreed, and Ranmaru and Kyouhei nodded in affirment. They all sat about for a few minutes, feeling bad for Sunako and disgusted in themselves. Finally Kyouhei sighed, breaking the uneasy silence.

"This isn't doing us any good, feeling this way. It _is _her choice right? It's not like she complains. I'm sure-I'm sure she doesn't even notice." Yuki shook his head, staring down at his fists resting on his knees.

"She does. Haven't you noticed how she sometimes leaves them folded on top of the radiators after she's dusted them, so they're warm when we put them on?"

"She does that with all our clothes." Ranmaru protested, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous hand. Yuki shook his head again.

"Doesn't matter. Anyways, it's usually just the clothes she thinks we're gonna wear that she leaves out, not all of our shirts and pants. But she leaves out _all _the underwear."

"Sock's too." Takenaga added, sifting a hand through his well-conditioned hair, "I always thought it was sweet of her, I mean, who doesn't love putting on clothes that are still warm? Especially…underwear." The black-haired man said the word underwear hesitantly, as if it were naughty and frowned upon. Suddenly Ranmaru's face went very, very pale.

"Oh no." Kyouhei, Takenaga, and Yuki all turned to watch as Ranmaru dropped his face into his hands, eyes wide. "No, no, no, no, no. That means she's seen it. I always mean not to toss it into my laundry basket, which, unlike you Kyouhei, I actually do, but I always forget somehow."

"Seen what?" Yuki piped, as girly and naïve as girly and naïve could be. Ranmaru's face went red as a pimento as he bit his bottom lip, small rivulets of sweat trailing down the sides of his face.

"It's, well it's…y'see I don't really, but sometimes..." The womanizer hung his head low, refusing to make any eye contact with his fellow roommates. "It's called a grnhgr."

"A what?" Kyouhei asked, holding his hand up to his ear.

"A grnhgr."

"WHAT?"

"A GROINHUGGER OK?" They all sat in silence, stunned and blinking at the redhaired and redfaced skirt chaser. Kyouhei's face became dangerously skeptical as he narrowed his eyes.

"What?" he breathed, expression tight. Ranmaru covered his face again. His blush was as red as a London bus, spreading to his neck and ears, something that never happened to a cool-witted Don Juan such as himself.

"Don't judge me!" he sobbed, his piteous cries making Takenaga wince, "I bought it a long time ago. I was young, I couldn't help it! The women I liked back then went just crazy for it." Takenaga raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Just what _is _it?"

"It's a type of underwear. It's a length of cloth, usually some kind of gauzy material, sometimes cheesecloth if you're daring. And it knotted in such a way that it…hugs your groin. It covers everything though. It's a type of fetish clothing, meant to be used along with…" Ranmaru made an embarrassed choking sound.

"With?" the three others urged in one voice, leaning a tad closer in their seats.

"…with toys." Ranmaru finished, practically curling into a shameful ball right there on the floor. Takenaga and Kyouhei went white before blushing madly themselves, looking away to stare at unimportant things such as the non-functional TV and the expensively framed paintings Auntie had put up on the walls. Yuki cocked his head to the side, confused.

"Toys? Like…action figures? Gundam Seed?"

"Don't say seed!"

"Does he really not know?"

"The boy's a six-year-old! He really is!"

Yuki folded in on himself, ashamed of his naiveté while the other three log rolled on the floor back and forth, embarrassed that he didn't know and that they did. Finally Kyouhei walked over on his knees to whisper in Yuki's ear.

"Don't tell him!" Ranmaru cried in anguish, putting a hand out to stop him. Kyouhei slapped his hand away and leaned towards Yuki.

"It's time he knew!" The strawberry blond protested, cupping a hand to whisper the grotesque facts into the shielded boy's ear. Takenaga and Ranmaru stopped moaning like banshees to listen, though they only caught a few words.

"shops…rubber…sometimes with buckles…likes to…and then…against the bed…shove up…sticky…metal kind…hurts sometimes…elastic is the best…and then you…with…push up…gets wet. Be sure to clean up afterwards, it can get messy sometimes." Yuki's face turned green and he became sweaty all over.

"I don't feel so good you guys." He said, wobbling out of his seat to stand up, swaying uneasily. "I'm just going to go to bed." The three watched him stagger out of the room and down the hallway. They looked at one another gravely when they heard the bathroom door shut hastily, and the sounds of retching drifted distantly down the halls.

"You couldn't hold back, could you? For the poor boy's sake?" Takenaga asked quietly, his face a papery white. Ranmaru nodded in agreement, looking a tad green himself. Kyouhei shrugged, crossing his feet on the low wooden coffee table stationed in front of the couch he was sitting on.

"The boy needed to know." He said indifferently, leaning back against the cushions Yuki and Takenaga had earlier been nesting in. They sat in silence for a long while, contemplating different things.

"Hey," Kyouhei announced, "I just thought of something." Ranmaru and Takenaga covered their ears.

"We don't want to listen to any more of your sudden revelations! They make us give up more then we're willing to give up!" cried Ranmaru, shaking his head back and forth viciously, his unhealthily deep blush beginning to recede.

"Yeah!" Takenaga agreed, shaking his head back and forth as well. Kyouhei sat straight up in his seat.

"Now wait you idiots! I have something really interesting to say!"

"No, no!" Takenaga and Ranmaru yelled in unison, writhing to get away from the fried-shrimp-eating monkey.

"Now hold on a minute!" Kyouhei sprung from his feet and kicked the two sissies in the head, successfully stopping their protests. "There, that's better. Now, just listen to me for a minute." The two housemates blinked at him, rubbing the bumps that were beginning to form on their heads. "Sunako's seen all our underwear, even Ranmaru's groinhugger, right? Washed it all, right? Maybe we should…" it was Kyouhei's turn to color as red as oxygenated blood.

"Should?" Ranmaru and Takenaga urged half wearily half curiously, this conversation beginning to sound somewhat like their previous one.

"should…do the same for her? I mean, maybe not wash it, but she's seen our _underwear _for kami's sake! That's one step lower from seeing us naked! It's exposed us in ways we didn't ask for! We should expose her in exactly the same ways, yes?" Kyouhei cleverly omitted that she'd seen him at least partially naked already when she walked in on him that one time in the shower. Ranmaru and Takenaga sucked in hesitant breaths, mulling over Kyouhei's drastic, devious, slightly lecherous, and possibly dangerous suggestion in their minds. They looked at each other before voicing their decisions.

"No." the two replied in unison, blunt as blunt could be. Kyouhei refused to deflate.

"Come on, I don't want to be bored again, there's absolutely nothing to do!"

"Read a book." Takenaga suggested weakly, though he knew it was no use.

"After! I'll read a book after. C'mon, we'll just horse around a bit, no harm, no foul. It'll be _fine. _You two already know if worst comes to worst I'll take her on, I'll be able to hold that rabid little she-demon off! At least, for a little while, but long enough for you two to get away and cover up your scent so she won't hunt you down after she's gutted me and pickled my eyeballs like daikon slices." Takenaga and Ranmaru exchanged glances once again. "C'mon ya wusses," Kyouhei urged, shaking them lightly for a decision, "we'll be free from boredom for a while right? It'll be _fine._"

The heir and the Casanova sighed, drooping slightly in defeat. He was right, it would be entertaining enough. The two turned to look at their fearless housemate, who was already smiling at them encouragingly. The two shrugged, already knowing part of what they were getting into.

"Oh," Takenaga finally said, sagging under Kyouhei's excited gaze, "oh alright. Just don't get us killed." The blond slapped his black-haired friend heartily on the back, his grin inextinguishable.

"Don't worry! We'll go in, have a peak, maybe take a pair for future blackmailing purposes, and then get out again and call the electrical company for the umpteenth time to see if they can get the TV working again. Really, what's the worst that could possibly happen?"

Little did the three schemers know that the worst that could happen was a lot worse than they thought.

The groinhugger is not a real thing ladies, no matter how much you wish it was. Don't be lame! Review! Please? If you do Ranmaru might show you some of his toys, maybe he'd even demonstrate how to use a few? I'm jus' sayin'. I love all of you, even if you don't review which is really lame! !*word vomit*

p.s. there will be plenty of sunakyou in the chapters to come! (I don't know how many that is)

-Shredding Ribbons


	2. Techno Skull Laughs At Your Fail

Disclaimer: yeah, your face.

Yes, the second one is finally and out, and moley is it a big one. I got side-tracked a lot writing this one because of all the crap that happened, including a garage sale, watching two seasons of Doctor Who, baking and fail-icing a carrot cake for my mom's birthday, and getting locked in a bathroom stall at an airport with no hope of escape. It was really terrifying, actually.

Also, to the people who reviewed like; Kureneko-sama07, HelloLovelyChick, Nozomi Ai, Duesluxmea, EvilGirlRikka, Saphirre77, Johanna Marie, Hououza, Hope-Hazard, LiliesOnPluto, DarkSmile, purpleparkz02, and 3…THANK YOU SO HARD FOR REVIEWING. YAY.

Why were there so many freaking socks? Why? There had to be some kind of reason for this lunacy she was being put through. Or maybe not. But then again, living in a house with two morons, a naïve boy with a girlfriend complex, and a studious sane person, it was not that unusual.

Sunako stood barefoot in front of a metallic laundry tub, wringing the suds out of a pair of floral boxer briefs. Lukewarm and soapy water made rivulets down her forearms before dripping down onto one of the many towels she had covered the floor with throughout the room, splattering unceremoniously. After wringing the underwear out the dark-haired girl proceeded to leave it to float in a different tub full of clean water, joining an assortment of boxer briefs decorated in brocade, stripes, polka dot, toile, plaid, checker, paisley, teal, damask*, and a strange, exotically colored design that looked to be a haphazard collage of parrots. The toile was done in portraits of King Henry the VIII, which was disturbing in itself, but the paisley was rather nice, if not tongue-bitingly feminine.

Sunako had been doing hand wash pretty much all day, dusting and mopping had been done yesterday, beating rugs the day before, so on and so forth. She had made an outrageous supply of onigiri for the garbage disposals she lived with so they wouldn't be bothering her every second for something to eat, and was currently plowing through the barbaric amount of laundry she had been unfortunately confronted with.

At least there was one thing that amused her about doing her housemate's laundry. It was being able to differentiate one person clothing from another's, based on scent and style. For instance, Ranmaru's cloths were mostly fetish cosplay, while Takenaga's were clean-cut and fashionably understated. Yuki was a surprising fan of silk, which she took great care in washing, and favored nice polo's and light-material cargo shorts for summer-wear.

Her last and most radiant housemate's clothes were easy to identify. Kyouhei had so many similar pairs of clothes it's like he went on Amazon to stock up for the apocalypse. He wore beaters and t-shirts made out of simple material, jeans, and the occasional pair of sweatpants. The only few fancy things Kyouhei ever put on his body (must not have dirty thoughts, must not have dirty thoughts) was the few chains and studded belts he wore on his jeans-which Sunako grudgingly had to take off before washing-and his insulated sweaters. Those sweaters and all the junk he bought to stuff his face with were the only signs that he put the money that he wasn't paying rent with-_the loafer-_to good use. The sweaters were quite nice actually, and Sunako had fancied getting one for herself. Since Kyouhei hated getting cold he had bought himself a set of fur-lined, specially designed sweaters for Christmas last winter, and Sunako was forced through the painstaking job of meticulously hand-washing them so they didn't shrink or lose their color.

As for scent, that one was a little harder to explain. They all wore cologne except for Kyouhei, who wore deodorant. When he felt like it, that is. Yuki wore flowery, kind of unmanning cologne, while Takenaga's had a subtle, sandalwood sweet kind of scent. Ranmaru was just everywhere with his cologne, keeping as many bottles and brands as a French designer doing a show in Milan. Kyouhei's clothes just smelled smoky, not like cigarettes, but more like the faint, warmly pleasant aroma of burning cedar. _And _a lot of the time they smelled like food, which was not always unpleasant either. Just…unnerving. Sure shrimp or a nice, well-seasoned steak were a welcome scent, but not for perfume or cologne, _especially _notsizzling bacon, which was how the big lummox's pajamas always smelled.

But enough of that. Sunako turned to a drying rack of darks needing her attention. Since the power was mostly out Sunako had to do all the laundry by hand instead of only some, and it was putting her in a right foul mood. And oh! Takenaga's good dress slacks! They'd wrinkled pretty badly while drying, and they were stiff as a plank. Sighing, Sunako pulled the ironing board down from where it was attached to the wall and spit-checked the old iron she'd been heating, making sure the saliva sizzled when it hit the surface. _Good enough, _she thought to herself, then went at Takenaga's pants.

_Meanwhile…_

"What do you mean this makes me look fat? I'll have you know I weigh the least out of all of you, thank you very much."

"But I thought Yuki was the lightest?" Takenaga asked, rubbing a sore spot on his head where he'd been conked against the wall. Ranmaru just sneered, slender hands on feminine hips.

"He was, the little girl, until he stuffed his face with all those sweeties his sweetie's been feeding him. I mean really, how does someone neglect their body like that?" the catty redhead snapped, examining his twenty dollar manicure with skeptical eyes, noticing a slight chip of the clear polish on his left ring finger. Kyouhei turned to him then, away from the cables he'd been fiddling with.

"What have you to say about bodily neglect, Mr. Muffintop? The only way your exquisitely colored and cut hair is natural is if your mother's name is Alluring Carmine and looks suspiciously like the plastic bottle of red hair dye you've been hiding behind the heavy duty band-aids in the eighth bathroom's medicine cabinet all this time." Ranmaru just snarled at him, picking unconsciously at a flaking bit of polish on his thumb.

"And you're so innocent with your Beach Bimbo blond hair?" With a jerk of anger Kyouhei ripped out a handful of multi-colored cables, turning to glare at Ranmaru for his snide remark.

"Yuki's a blond too!" he retorted viciously, gesturing upwards with his hand and making the cables flop conspiratorially.

"Both of you shut up! Not only am _I _the lightest of the four of us right now, but I'm also the only one with naturally colored hair, so it's best if you cram it now." At this the blond and the redhead attacked the Takenaga heir with nasty retorts, some of which about Noi, which was a powerful blow all in itself.

They were in what was virtually the basement of the Nakahara mansion, fiddling with the cables down there. They were trying to figure out how to shut of the oven and stove so it would take Sunako longer to make dinner, thus buying them more time.

After a while of bickering this way and that, the three now slightly miffed teenagers had succeeded in not only disabling the stove and oven but also, unknowingly, the large kitchen refrigerator as well. Sunako would murder them for that. Kyouhei shivered in the cold of the basement before turning to his reluctant accomplices.

"Alright, that should do it." The three boys started up the stairs, and as they hopped ungainfully up the steps Kyouhei turned back to look at his womanizer housemate and said, in his sweetest, most 'accommodating boyfriend' voice, "Next time you're on your period Ranmaru, dear, don't be shy to tell us. I'm sure we can dig up some chocolate and a heating pad for you." The blonde's unmanning comment quickly backfired on him, though, when Ranmaru came sweeping up the stairs to take Kyouhei's chin in his gentle fingers, his mouth a mere feather's breadth away from his straw-haired housemate.

"Kyouhei, my love, since when did you start calling me 'dear'?" Ranmaru licked his lips and looked into Kyouhei's eyes seductively, pressing him even closer to the wall, "and can you say it again?" with that he planted the chastest and most playful kiss on Kyouhei's madly blushing cheek.

"Get off me man!" the blond boy yelped, his voice girlishly high with the embarrassment he had been caused, a scarlet flush peeking rosily from out of his collar and around his neck. Ranmaru just shrugged meekly at Takenaga, who was now doing his best to stay upright as he laughed his proper-living ass off, and started up the stairs again with a come-hither slink of his hips. The black-haired heir was going red he was laughing so hard, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as Kyouhei stood in perturbed and silent shock. He had just been kissed. By _Ranmaru. _No. This could not be! And how was he supposed to outdo this kind of embarrassment? There was only one way. With Takenaga still wheezing and giggling like a severely disturbed young child he leapt up the stairs two at a time, catching up to Ranmaru just at the top of the stairs.

"Come back for more, love?" the redhead asked breezily, drifting with his I-totally-got-your-ass swagger towards the hallway. Kyouhei stepped in his path, eyes determined.

"Actually, yes, I have." And with that bewildering comment he grabbed Ranmaru's shoulders, purpose in his eyes, and yanked the poor confused boy towards him, pressing his lips triumphantly if not clumsily onto his lips. It was lightning-fast but insistent, and it left Ranmaru flustered and reeling to the point where it was like falling without motion. He stumbled away from his kisser, who was beaming victoriously at him, his eyes bright and laughing. The poor redhead's skin was hot with perplexity, and he groped out to the wall for stable support. Kyouhei Takano had just kissed him. On his lips! The world had stopped making sense. Ranmaru could do nothing but stutter inanely, sputtering a smattering of half-formed obscenities.

Amidst all this Takenaga had finally made his way up the staircase, walking casually over to where his other two housemates stood.

"Guys? I came up because I heard a girl shriek. Why are you so full of hot air all of a sudden? And why's Ranmaru sort of shriveled up against the wall?" Kyouhei just shook his head back and forth slowly at what Takenaga had said, his smug grin still firmly in place.

"That wasn't a girl shrieking, it was ol' pucker-up over here." Takenaga contained the onslaught of laughter that was threatening to engulf him with a respectable amount of skill. Ranmaru just muttered unintelligible things to himself, a crazed look in his usually merrily twinkling eyes.

"What did you do to him?"

"Gave him a taste of his own medicine. Serves him right. Did you know you kiss your pretty little girlfriend with those lips?" Kyouhei turned to look gleefully at Ranmaru for the last part, Cheshire grin splitting his face from ear to ear. The redhead had finally started to regain himself, leaning only slightly against the wall now. He glared venomously at his smiley housemate.

"At least my girlfriend doesn't kiss corpses and drink brains from a straw." And with that, Ranmaru Morii stalked ahead of them like a haughty gay fashion queen. He might as well have tied on a puce ascot and sang show-tunes from Victor/Victoria.

While Takenaga continued to laugh like a hyena on 'shrooms, Kyouhei clenched his fist at his side, feeling sour. He didn't like it when they made of Sunako behind her back like that, even if it was sometimes true and he did it all the time. It seemed almost unfair now to make fun of her hobbies. They were just hobbies. Extremely creepy and unnerving hobbies, but hobbies nonetheless. And he could see how much she loved them all, Josephine, Akira, and Hiroshi, even if it did give him the willies. Everyone had to have something, right?

When people said stuff like that about Sunako, Kyouhei always felt slightly miffed. And his insides always itched. _Like crazy. _It drove him mad. And for Kami's sake he didn't know why!

The straw-haired man felt a pat on his shoulder, and turned to see Takenaga standing there, grinning at him.

"Well pervert-san, are we going to carry out this little expedition of yours or not?" Kyouhei shrugged out of the heir's grip, sly smirk on his face.

"Definitely." The blonde boy tapped his lips with his pointer finger, an interesting and useful thought passing fleetingly through his wicked mind. "But first, why not check where Little Miss Machete-wielder is? You don't want to be around a sleeping dragon if the dragon's actually awake." Takenaga looked puzzled at this.

"Sunako's not asleep. I mean, she _might _be, but she usually goes to bed later than that." At this, Kyouhei just shook his head.

"Never mind Takenaga, just keep that one scene from Pan's Labyrinth in mind. The one with the Eyeless Creature. That should give you a clue."

_Meanwhile…_

Sunako ironed at the stubborn little wrinkles running like haphazard stripes along the slacks she was going at, eyes wide and unblinking. Already she knew she was going mad. Madder than usual, that is. Recently she'd imagined the smiley face on one of Yuki's cutesy t-shirts changed, going from sad to frightened to snarling. The snarling one, of course, scared her out of her wits. Which was of course strange because she found horror so appealing.

Minutes before she'd heard a slight commotion predictably caused by the radiant creatures near the stairs, and she wondered what they'd been doing bumbling about in the basement. There wasn't much down under the mansion, save for the circuit breaker, the deep-freezer that Sunako liked to keep all her frozen meats in, storing them for later, and Naisha's old lair. But that was _waaaay _down, hidden deep like a gouge in the earth underneath a tightly locked trapdoor.

The thought of Naisha's lair brought back unwelcome memories. That had been the first time she'd been possessed, and she hadn't much liked it, but it beat the crap out of the horrific things that happened when she was possessed by that pendant her Auntie had mistakenly re-gifted to her. Being possessed by the cat-loving spirit at the hot springs was actually kind of fun, since she got to wander around with a samurai sword seeking revenge, but in the end being in control of her body was the best way to be. (Besides, she could wander around with a samurai sword seeking revenge on her own.)

Three times to be possessed was a lot, and she didn't doubt that it would happen at least once more in the future. Hell! Being possessed wasn't the only time she lost control of her body. Like when she ate those poisonous mushrooms! The others had gone through similar stuff as well, like when Kyouhei went totally wack and gentlemanly after getting in a head-on collision with Ranmaru. And Ranmaru! Why, he'd been possessed as well, by her long-dead uncle if she remembered correctly.

Sunako supposed it wasn't like it was happening left and right, but sometimes, when things got a little too close to normal, like right about now, the shit hit the fan. And boy did it fly. She never, _ever _wanted to wake up naked straddling Kyouhei while he slept ever again. Even thinking about it made the bile rise and the blood threaten to escape from its little artery in her nose.

Just as the dark-haired girl was getting herself worked up over the time the four of her housemates, _all four of them,_ had seen her wandering around the kitchen in her apron and nothing else, she heard a soft knock at the laundry room door, though it failed to derail her thoughts. Not even her panties! God that pendant had been one sadistic messed up bitch. Sunako rubbed a crick in her neck, feeling the warm slickness of sweat the steam from all the hot water was causing. Speaking of panties, she'd need to do her load soon. And somehow, at the thought of that single, frequently performed chore, a cold finger stroke of foreboding pressed up like ice against the bare bone of her vertebrae. Something was up, Sunako knew, and it wasn't anything good.

_A few minutes earlier…(yes we are severing the space and time continuum. I am now in cahoots with Doctor Who.)_

"Alright men. I want this quick, clean, and over with, just like ripping off a band-aid."

"Who are you, an army general?" Ranmaru smirked, amused. Kyouhei just made a face at him, crossing his arms sullenly.

"Whatever, shut up. All I want to say is that someone has to go in there and talk Sunako into making dinner, or at least asking how much laundry she still has to go before she runs out. Someone that she's remotely comfortable around. Someone that won't scare her off." Kyouhei and Ranmaru's head turned slowly towards Takenaga like marionette dolls, eyebrows raised. The poor dark-haired boy was already shrugging in defeat, scrubbing a hand through his crow's feather locks.

"Yeah yeah I'll go. Just stop staring at me like I'm gonna make a run for it." His eyes flashed with a fleeting irritation, lingering on Kyouhei. "She's really not that bad you know. You treat her like a monster under the bed but she cooks and she cleans and does all this stuff for us. She's even the reason we're getting free rent. Sometimes," Takenaga sighed then, knowing he was going to get crap later for what he was going to say next, "sometimes I think we don't deserve the free rooming, the way we treat her. Especially you, Kyouhei. She's still a person, no more messed up than you with all your complexes and pet peeves." There was a compact, soundless silence, like someone had shoved cotton into the three's ears, while they anticipated what the others were going to say. It was Kyouhei, as predicted, who broke the silence, his head turned away, arms crossed lazily across his lean chest.

"Cry me a river." was the only snide remark they got out of him, and before any more spur-of-the-moment words were exchanged Takenaga was off down the short hallway, off to face the 'dragon.'

_And now we're back…_

Sunako had been humming as she ironed, keeping the tune and the pitch helping distract her from old sore memories and making her focus on her iron. Back and forth, back and forth she swooshed the iron, pressing its center-of-the-sun hot surface to the stubborn slacks.

Sunako had never been one for musicals, but she'd come across a few. She'd went with her Auntie to watch Les Miserables years ago, on a trip to Chicago if she recalled correctly, and had quite enjoyed it. It might have not been horrific in the sense she was used to, but in its melancholy, painful setting of a quickly defeated revolutionary uprising in the multiple cities of France, it was, in an intriguing way, just as horrific.

The Phantom of the Opera she had come by by accident really. She'd heard of the terrible and scheming Phantom, snatching the opera house residents from their beds and hanging them from the great chandelier by nooses. Impossibly excited Sunako had gone and grabbed it from the rental store and watched it with popcorn, growing more and more confused as she went along. Sure, that one hanging scene was nice, and parts of the last scene, and the drowning scene now that she thought about it, but then there was all this lovey-dovey stuff, mucking it up.

If Sunako had been Christine, she'd have snapped that phantom right up and left the cry-baby Raoul in the dust. Because, really? Couldn't he be a bit braver, just a tad? It might've made the whole romance thing a little less suffocating. And the phantom! God, he was almost as bad as Raoul, up on the rooftop, weeping over his love who didn't love him back. The whole thing was a vast disappointment to Sunako, the only scene she _really _enjoyed being the one where the phantom made his very first killing, forced into working as a freak act in a gypsy circus, dubbed under the name The Devil's Child. And even that scene had its downers, because it made her want to feel sorry for the Phantom, getting beaten and used like that. The whole movie was such a waste. Except for, that is, the music.

_Meanwhile…_

Takenaga rapped his knuckles softly but briskly against the laundry-room door, waiting for reply. When he got none he slowly stepped inside, only to hear something squelch underfoot and lukewarm water soak into his sock.

With a frown he stood on one leg and peeled of the now sopping sock, only to have the other one absorb water as well. The poor heir looked down to find himself standing on one of many towels laid across the floor like a garishly multicolored carpet, so wet puddles were forming on top of them. Was hand-wash really that messy?

He glanced up, searching for Sunako, and found her near the corner of the room, ironing his good dress slacks. She was humming something, something with a dark feel as she swept the old school iron back and forth, pressing careful creases into the legs of his pants.

With her hair as black as a magpie's crest up in a ponytail, wearing surprisingly short (for her at least) jogging shorts and a work-out tank accredited to the warm weather they'd been having, she looked almost normal. It was pleasing, but disturbing.

Sunako was out of her chibi form, for now, and it really showed off her skin. If there was one thing Sunako had, it was great skin. A funny thing to notice, but it was there.

"Sunako-chan?" he usually didn't call her that, but he decided he didn't want to sound too stiff, he had to smooth gracefully into lying, which he wasn't good at in the first place. Said girl raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement, but did not look up. "Were you planning on making dinner tonight? We were thinking of grabbing some take-out if you weren't." The noir-haired girl seemed to mull this over as she set the iron down on its butt, draping the beige slacks neatly over her arm and grabbing a clip hanger off a portable rack she had near her.

As he waited for her answer, which he knew would come at some point, he glanced around the room. At least ten tubs, some metallic and some plastic, her full with clothes, whites in one, reds in another, darks floating in their water like large, bloated jellyfish. It was only then that he noticed the tub full of underwear. He saw glints of dark blue ones and a pair decorated with black, gray, and white cammo, floating near the top. And there were his paisley ones that Noi got him! The poor boy's cheeks went red.

"I'll be making a salmon dish today. You can go tell the other radiant beings." At her sudden speech Takenaga jerked up, face still as pink as a bottle of pepto bismol.

"What?" his voice came out hoarse, and he cleared his throat. "Really?" Without answering Sunako came over and handed him his slacks, neatly folded and clipped to a clip hanger. Before he forgot as Sunako started to walk away he said, somewhat sheepishly, "Thanks. Oh, and, ah, how much laundry do you have left?" She looked up at him quizzically. "Just wondering." was the poor heir's softly stated justification for questioning her as she turned her back to him and bent over a tub of soaking laundry.

"More than I want to wash." And she was back to humming. Just before he turned to go he caught a glimpse of her wringing the water out of a pair of blue pinstriped boxer briefs, twisting the fabric with her strong hands. Face as scarlet as a man who's just met his first stripper he was out of that room in two seconds flat, scurrying down the hallway with his dress slacks in hand.

_Five minutes later…_

Sunako started towards the kitchen, tired, hands pruney and white with being in the water so long. She should grab her panties. But first, she should probably preheat the oven. Yeah, that was a good plan.

Truthfully, the girl couldn't wait to make dinner. She had ordered a new set of knives, bread and steak and butcher alike. Sunako's favorite knife to use, though, was actually a pairing knife. It was so _useful _at times, peeling the skins off of fruit, gouging soft bits, pitting, scaling, gutting, so useful. Many times Sunako had even considered carrying one around with her in her pocket as opposed to how people carried switchblades, but then she would have to buy more sweats with pockets and make a sheath for the little knife. Perhaps she would. In fact, if she tried to kill someone with the little pairing knife, it would probably be long and painful. And bloody.

The thoughts of gore and human agony lightened Sunako's mood a tad as she made her way to the kitchen, trying to smooth the hairs that had run away from her pony tail back into place.

As soon as she was in the room she made a beeline for the oven, pressing the on button. And, when nothing happened, pressing it again. And again. And again. With a feral cry she smashed her entire fist at full-force into the small gray button, and yet the screen still did not light to greet her. With a roar like an enraged banshee she flew through the halls, hurtling down the stairs to where she knew all the coils of wires controlling the electricity were.

The dark-haired girl knew for a fact that only the TV's were out in the house. Not only had the whole system been cut, but just to make absolute sure that those TV's didn't turn on 'til morning, the dish had come smashing down from its long-time perch on the roof, breaking like a plate against the hard concrete.

Once she had thundered down the stairs like Thor himself was in a vengeful rage she slowed a bit and scurried over to the entire wall full of sockets, all plugged with different cables. Blues, yellows, oranges, greens, reds, blacks, whites, you name the color and it was there, a rainbow of wires, twisting and coiling around each other until it seemed as if the one cable you'd been following with your eyes disappeared completely into oblivion, never to be untangled. It was as confusing as the Devil's Pitchfork (A/N weirdest image EVAR, look it up.)

Despite all the confusion Sunako was completely ready to unknot all those coils to get the oven plugged in. Except…she had no technical skills whatsoever, that fact having nothing to do with the fact she was a girl. She could speak English, French, and Italian (Auntie loved the romance languages) with hardly an accident, cook the most complicated meals, not afraid to dump lobsters in the pot still alive and shrilling, and yet she had nil to zip knowledge of technology. Very foreign. And yet, determination ran as deep as the quick in every Nakahara, and Sunako was no exception. She was going to get that oven working if it killed her, which wasn't an unpleasant thought to the horror-loving shut-in.

_Meanwhile…_

"Just shove it in, shove it right in. Wiggle it a bit, that's it. Goddamit Kyouhei! Now you're wiggling it too much! There's only so much room in that hole, and I already told you that it's much too long."

"Will you stop talking? It sounds dirty." Kyouhei was bent over the key hole, growling in frustration with his limited utensils. Ranmaru frowned, now having picked about a half of the clear coat of nail polish on his thumb.

"Oh get your mind out of the gutter." He hissed. Kyouhei stopped picking at the lock and looked up, expression flat.

"Ran, you were born with your mind so deep in the gutter you're practically doing a headstand."

"Headstands huh? Got any more positions you want to tell me about?" he asked cheekily. Kyouhei turned to Takenaga, a plea for help in his eyes.

"Y'see?" Takenaga just shook his head at the both of them, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Just pick it Kyouhei, I don't want to be here all night, and I _especially _don't want Sunako to see us stooped outside her door, trying a B&E in her own house." They were silent a bit after the heir made his peace, Kyouhei working at the lock a bit more desperately. He paused a while before wondering to himself aloud.

"Since when does Sunako have a lock on her door?"

"Since you barged into her room so many times." Silence.

"I see." They fell into a new, waiting quiet until they heard the piercing metallic ping of a lock hammer being sprung, after which they all patted Kyouhei on the back in a celebratory manner.

The three went into the room as jumpy as three long-tailed cats in a rocking chair factory, gingerly stepping over the threshold with wavering assuredness. Kyouhei went in first, body tensed with wariness; alert. If he'd really been one of those cats, his long tail would be sticking straight out and bristling like a bottlebrush as he slid his way in. He kind of wished he was some kind of goo, so he could ooze his way about soundlessly instead of treading.

After the blond boy was sure the coast was clear he motioned for the others to join him. The, as he was walking in, Ranmaru flicked on the light. Mistake. _Big _mistake. Since her techno light skull was motion and lucency sensitive, it lit right up and cackled its loud mechanical cackle, as loud as a scream.

"Turn off the light!" Kyouhei cried, diving for the stupid skull. It laughed hysterically even as he tackled it and muffled it as well as he could, resorting to climb under Sunako's futon for a better sound barrier. He hissed obscenities at the skull as he fussed with its switch, finally succeeding in turning it off.

They all stood in the pitch room, the shuddering silence like having wads of wool pressed over your ears. Like the sound was not there. And then there was the distinct thumping of someone coming up the stairs.

"Retreat!" the whisper was panicked and shrill, and Kyouhei was thinking so fast he couldn't even identify who said it.

"No! No, we can't leave yet. This just changes our plans a little."

"A _little? _Are you _mad? _We'll be gutted like fish and hanging of hooks like cow slabs in a meat freezer by the time she's through with us!"

"If you're out you're out, if you're in you're in, but you better decide now because we don't have the time. Now quick, start looking through those drawers! I'll look through these." Kyouhei was only slightly less panicked than his two comrades, but not by much. He could only imagine all the horrible things _he'd _do if _he _was Sunako. And that was a fear that kept him in action, because even if she turned into death itself, he wasn't going to leave that room like a coward, cat tail between his legs. Thinking back to that saying, Sunako would probably be the rocking chair. A giant, metal rocking chair. With spikes.

_Meanwhile…_

Sunako heard a sound upstairs. She had just found a base cable, and was connecting it when she heard a muffled commotion from upstairs. She'd call it a hullaballoo, but then she'd just sound weird. Weirder than usual, at least.

She listened harder, and her eyes went wide when she heard the familiar raucous guffawing of her old techno light skull, and a quiet thump. After a moment it stopped, and a hovering silence descended. Someone was in her room.

Without another pause she shoved the father plug into the socket and thudded her way up the stairs, ready to dish out a good beating for whoever disturbed her beautiful sanctuary. Down the hallway, turn, another hallway, up a platform staircase, turn, hallway, up another staircase, another hallway and turn; she was at her door. Ready to reap revenge she through the door open, eyes taking in the scene in front of her.

…Nothing. She saw…nothing. Her futon a bit wrinkled, but that was that. Nothing missing, out of place. The skull sat where it was supposed to be, its plastic teeth frozen in an ever-intimidating grin. Mocking. Mocking her.

_At that very moment…_

Takenaga had been born with the lungs of an Olympic swimmer. He could hold his breath for a disgustingly long amount of time, sitting still and tranquil.

Ranmaru was a wonder at holding his breath, used to hiding under beds and in closets to keep out of the way of one of his lover's husbands'.

Kyouhei did not have such a talent. He simply had to breathe very steadily, being sure that the air went straight down his throat, like a tube to his lungs, and then back out again. No panting, no nose-breathing. Just slow, carefully monitored breaths.

Each and every one of the three of them heard Sunako as she yanked the door open, and then the uneasy silence afterward when she found no one in sight. Their hearts when as fast as a scared rabbit's, and they kept their eyes wide, hearing acutely tuned.

Sunako was listening. Like a hunter for its prey she was listening for them. For their breath, for the slight shift of clothing. It was one of the scariest moments in any of their lives. Then finally they heard a sigh, heard the door of her wardrobe open and close, heard the rustle of her futon, heard the plastic clatter of falling DVDs. She was searching for them, but in vain.

"Damn radiant creatures. What am I, living with vandals now?" There were small sounds as she bustled about the room, and Kyouhei wanted more than anything to open his door a crack and look, but it was instant suicide. So he gripped his hands in tight fists and focused on his breathing. Even, frequent, soundless.

Then, finally, though the thin sheet of light that traveled through the crack near the hinge of his door, he saw the lights flick of, the door shut, and heard the soft pad of Sunako's feet down the hallway.

As soon as he was sure the coast was completely clear Kyouhei flung open the door to his coffin, happy to be able to breathe normally again.

"Guys," he whispered, "guys. It's all clear now, come out."

Ranmaru and Takenaga reluctantly opened the doors to their coffins as well. Disgruntled they all looked at each other, making sure they and everyone else was in one piece.

"That was close." Kyouhei said in a low voice, rubbing a hand along his sore neck. Ranmaru took a few calming breaths before answering.

"Close? _Close? _That was closer than any shave Sweeney Todd could ever give!" hissed the red-head, anger flaring.

"It's my fault, I take the blame, I'm sorry, blah blah blah blah blah. The point is, we still don't have it. And the other point is, you guys aren't bored." Takenaga stared at the blond for a long moment before answering.

"You better take the blame. And no, we're not bored, we're on the verge of wetting ourselves." Kyouhei raised an eyebrow.

"Well you're balls just shriveled to the size of raisins. Y'see? This is why I don't understand why you two have girlfriends and I don't. Not that I want one. But still."

The bickering continued on for about another minute or so, and I'll let you use your knowledge of the three high schoolers to fill in the blanks. The last words said on the subject before they evacuated the premises was this;

"We still need to get ahold of it. Our mission doesn't change just because we didn't find it this time around."

_Meanwhile…_

Sunako stood with her ear pressed to her bedroom door, eyebrows rising ever higher up her forehead. _What _did they need? What was that stupid radiant creature _talking _about?

She'd known they were probably in there, hiding somewhere she didn't check. If they weren't in there, so what, but it was worth trying. And boy how worth trying it was.

After she'd left the room she's back-tracked as quiet as nighttime, wanting to hear them if they had anything to say. From the voices she heard bickering just on the other side, she judged Yuki wasn't with them. It was just Takenaga, Ranmaru, and her arch enemy. Sunako just wondered _what _it was that they were looking for, since they obviously hadn't taken anything.

"We should get out of here, she might come back." At these words Sunako sped down the hall like she'd been fired from a cannon and swung into the nearest bathroom by its doorframe, careful to be soundless even when sprinting like an Olympic track runner.

The dark-haired girl decided that instead of confronting the radiant creatures now, she'd wait a bit, snoop about, see what it was they so desperately wanted from her. Instead of a slasher, a detective horror story. Not a bad idea.

So when the threesome walked their way past her temporary hideout she stayed silent instead of pouncing on her prey, plans brewing in her mind. She was going to find what it was they were searching for, and when she found out, it wasn't going to have a happy ending. Not. At. All.

Hope you liked it! I'll try to update sooner and sooner, but they're not all going to be this long, so don't get your hopes up. For now, stay tuned!

-Shredding Ribbons


	3. Physical Graffiti

Disclaimer: I own them. I own them all. Didn't see that comin' didjya? *is taken out by a sniper bullet*

A giant purple velociraptor with jaundice attacked me and ate all my fanfiction-writing skills which I had to gain back by squishing grapes into wine barefoot while a tribe of sasquatches made macaroni pictures and origami out of coloring book pages which I had to offer in a sacred ceremony to the great god of writer's block. Aussi, je etudie pour ma classe de francais, et je suis aussi etudie pour ma classe de mathematiques parce que mathematiques c'est tres difficile.

Can you believe this chapter is 9,864 words long? I can, I wrote it.

wordswordswordsyourfacewords

When the Nakahara heiress woke up that morning it was in a dire confusion. It had been a long night for Sunako. Her knuckles were cramping like nobody's business, and she smelled like Cheer laundry detergent and stale sweat. Last night's dinner, the one that her four housemates had to practically wrench from her cold, achy hands, had turned out to be quite plain.

For some reason, because her day hadn't been nerve wracking enough, the fridge had stopped working, and a third of the food had promptly spoiled. The five mansion dwellers had had to make do with left over beef curry, cubed chunks of half-heartedly broiled teriyaki salmon, and seasoned clams crusted with a very expensive parmesan cheese that Sunako'd been hoarding. After they'd supped Sunako had tiredly dragged herself to Yuki's room with a tray of dinner balanced in her hand. After some hesitation the blond, who was still a tad pale around the edges, ate full and well, thanking Sunako profusely for not making calamari that day. He didn't think he could stand the sight of tentacles ever again.

And after that…Sunako strained her memory. She didn't remember going to her room to sleep. What had she been doing? Ah! That's right, she had been washing the dishes. Sunako hated leaving kitchenware to soak for the next morning, so she immediately went to do the dishes before she went to bed. But then she got really sleepy-or something along those lines. The water was so warm and toasty, the fragrance of the rose-scented dish soap so comforting, the lap of the suds against the sink side so lulling…she must have conked out.

And that brought her back to her first confusion; how in Kami's sweet name had she ended up here in her nice warm bed? Even her housemates knew that when she went out she was down for the count, therefore proving that no one, including herself, could have coaxed her into her room.

The creepily dispositioned heiress pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes and yawned. How she made safe passage to her bed was mystery, and a mystery it would remain. Right now all Sunako needed to worry about was popping some Tylenol and a cough drop because, as Murphy's Law had clearly stated, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. Sunako Nakahara was now in the indescribably foul clutches of the common cold.

Meeeeanwhile…

The runaway son of the harassed Takano family also awoke in a puzzlement. He was…not in his room, for one thing. Actually, he was on the floor of one of the Nakahara mansion's many bathrooms with a jock strap super-glued to his head and, after further inspection, stark raving naked. "Tool" was written down the middle of his chest in large, obtrusive lettering, with two equally large and bubbly hearts drawn on either side of his chest. Also, since that hadn't seemed to be quite enough, someone had painted his nails a shade of purple he later found out was called "quiet orchid", complete with golden, heart shaped sparkles and a clear over-coating.

Kyouhei was understandably abashed. But even then his first bodily assessment didn't even scratch the surface. Someone had dribbled a few drops of some kind of red dye in his hair, which turned pink when he tried to wash it out, as well as someone having written and scribbled all over him in blue eye-shadow and thick, red, Halloween-quality lipstick. Kyouhei sat in shock for a few minutes, staring down at his colorful and graffiti'd body, lipstick-smeared mouth open in a silent scream, nicely manicured hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He was pretty sure that today he would kill a second man today. And this time, it wouldn't be an accident…but first, a shower.

Meanwhile...

The next in line for the Morii Corporation family inheritance was roused from his dreams to reality with an immense feeling of contentment. After smearing lipstick all over Kyouhei's sorry ass and writing his occupation down his chest in extremely permanent marker, the redheaded lady killer then retired to a night on the town with his favorite lover, explaining why he had awoken in the clean, expensive Egyptian cotton sheets of a luxurious hotel.

After that chest-warming appetizer of contentment followed the sour main dish of regret. Not because of what he did to Kyouhei, he deserved what he got for kissing the redhead so decidedly upon his strictly straight lips, but because he'd cheated on Tomao, even though he promised he wouldn't.

He'd gotten quite drunk last night he remembered, and he felt the edge of a slight hangover feeding him his guilt like broken toenails. He wasn't one to drink much, contrary to popular belief, but he'd been so happy with his scheming yesterday that he'd downed a few vodka shots…and then a few more. And then he and Inga, a real player of hard-to-get from Belarus who was worth every yen over the expensive dinners and trinkets he bought her, had made their way to the most costly hotel Ranmaru could think of off the top of his very intoxicated head.

Inga had probably played leader last night, using his drunkenness as leverage to handle his body like an adult playground. All those months back when he'd met Inga Svetnikov, the fur-wearing, naturally red-haired model from Belarus, Ranmaru knew he'd met his match. She was as wily as they come, and was the best tease (and, eventually, lover) he'd ever laid eyes on.

Now he woke up to find a small, business card-shaped note taped to his chest with a red kiss smudge on the back, no doubt planted by Inga's full, sensuous lips, telling him that she had a modeling job in Moscow and Milan, and would be back in three months. When she got back, she added, she'd really like to meet with her lovely "Ranusha" again, and that his underwear were hanging on the lampshade that fallen from its perch during last night's activities.

After Ranmaru had showered and retrieved his underwear, he found yet another note from the other evening's lover plastered to the mirror of the medicine cabinet. It thanked him for the black mink fur winter outfit and garnet necklace set he'd bought for her last night. Apparently, she'd be the envy of all Milan with his generous gifts.

After about fifteen minutes of continuously banging his head against the bathroom wall he figured that, at least, Inga Svetnikov possessed impeccable taste in not only her fashion but her men as well. And that, of course, he'd been had.

He could still taste her Dior Paris lipstick on his tongue when he called the front desk to ask where his clothes were, to which a nice lady answered a Miss Svetnikov had asked to tell him that she'd taken last night's garments with her; to have a piece of him while she was modeling in Moscow. And Ranmaru still smelled strongly of Inga's exclusive and discontinued Chanel line perfume as he bribed a bellhop to run down and buy him a pair of pants and a shirt so he wouldn't be arrested for public indecency on his way home. And it was only then as he sat on the king sized hotel bed with its goose down satin pillows and its Egyptian cotton sheets, that he realized that the lovin' he had received from Inga Svetnikov, renowned heartbreaker and Belarusian runway model, was more a part of his hangover than any alcohol he could ever drink.

Ranmaru scrubbed his hands over his face. He had, at long last, finally met his maker, and what a devious maker she had been. Something told him that in three month's time, he wouldn't be able to resist the dark, chocolate-like seduction of Inga Svetnikov, even with Tamao on his back. And next time, he was almost eager for the crimson-haired temptress to play leader. He didn't mind following. Not much.

Meanwhile…

Kyouhei walked into the kitchen wearing a graying white t-shirt and blue striped white pajama pants, tying the drawstring securely to his hips as he stumbled his way through the doorway. He'd found out that the red dye that had been dribbled on his hair had been none other than Ranmaru's "Alluring Carmine" as he'd suspected, and had stashed the bottle under his bed for later usage. He walked in on Sunako, who was stirring a large vat of oatmeal and chugging lemon and honey-filled tea by the thermos full with a box of tissues tied to her waist by her apron strings.

"Good morning dazzling creature." Kyouhei could hear the obvious rasp in Sunako's voice, as well as the muting of her very stuffed nose. Her eyes were red rimmed, something that happens only when you've been crying or when you're sick, and the tip of her nose was turning a shiny sort of pink.

He raised his eyebrows as she whirled away from the stove to cough into a tissue while her other hand turned the burner down to low, agile even when wracked with sickness. After her short coughing fit she balled the hanky up and shoved it in her apron pocket, turning to the sink to wash her hands. They didn't want another *Typhoid Mary incident although, Sunako thought to herself, the sickness of millions would be a hard horrific sight to pass up.

Sunako made a point of not commenting on the faint red and blue lines criss-crossing all over Kyouhei's skin, nor did she comment on the slightly horrendous tinting job he was flaunting that morning. She simply kept to herself as she flipped pancakes with one hand, stirred oatmeal with the other, and then burned herself trying to turn the bacon she was frying over with her nonexistent third hand as it sizzled and spat burning pan grease at her.

She was just about to have a panic attack when the oven timer for her banana nut muffins went off and was understandably surprised when Kyouhei was suddenly beside her with oven mitts over his hands.

"Wait, wait! You need to check it with a toothpick first! If the toothpick comes out sticky, it-ah!" Sunako hissed as she recoiled from the volatile bacon skillet, deciding whether or not to nurse the second degree burn she had acquired on the knuckle of her thumb.

"Sunako, what happens if it comes out sticky?"

"It means," she continued, after deciding against giving any medical attention to her wound and frantically scraping the gooey oatmeal off the sides of the pot so it wouldn't burn, "that it needs to go in for a few more minutes. Geh! Throw me that spatula that's in the dish rack!" Kyouhei sent the thing flying at her without a second thought and she caught it with admirable deftness, flicking the burner that was controlling the well-being of that morning's oatmeal to a hand-warming low.

Kyouhei crouched and pulled the door of the oven down, making Sunako bend her lower body weird so she wouldn't bang her legs on it. He leaned forward and felt the angry hot breath on the oven on his face as he poised the toothpick expertly between his thumb and forefinger, when suddenly he felt a fleshy soft pressure against the side of his head.

Sunako loomed above him, the highest part of her upper thigh pressed against her blond housemate's head as she stretched to reach a measuring cup on the far counter. Kyouhei gave the scarlet oven mitts he was sporting a run for their money when he blushed at how embarrassingly provocative Sunako was being, unbeknownst to Sunako, as she mushed the tender side of her leg into his flushing face.

"S-Sunako? You're pressing you're leg into my face." shock fluttered at the sides of Kyouhei's mind when he realized he had actually _stuttered. _He'd remained straight-faced if not disgusted when women threw themselves naked on top of him, but when Sunako pressed slightly into him, in her _jogging shorts _no less, he felt like some sapped-up fangirl. This, this was a problem. A very big problem.

"Yeah, just wait a sec, I'm trying to get this measuring cup. And how did the toothpick turn out? I need to know now dazzling creature." Was her slightly distracted response.

"I'm working on it! Don't get your panties in a twist." He returned, then laughed nervously when the saying he had just blurted out went into instant replay in his mind, reminding him that he still had a mission. Two missions now, actually, since Ranmaru was begging for a slow and painful comeuppance.

"Trust a being of the light not to be able to do something so bone-achingly simple as to poke a muffin with a toothpick." Sunako muttered, cursing the bacon as it hissed prissily when she flipped it.

Kyouhei made a rude gesture with one of his fingers before turning back to his task and, at ridiculously long last, poked one of the mouth-wateringly delicious smelling muffins, and held the toothpick up to his face for inspection.

"What happens if it comes out not sticky?"

"Not sticky? You mean _clean_? Then it means they're ready. Take them out, turn off the oven, and put them on one of the large display plates I keep at the top of the china hutch." Once again, her reply was nothing less than vague for Kyouhei.

"How do I turn it off?"

"By pressing the 'off' button? Really, sometimes I get the feeling that your brain isn't as dazzling as the rest you is." Kyouhei scowled, then grinned.

"The rest of me huh? And how do you know what the rest of me looks like?" he swept up behind her and pressed his cheek to hers, breath fanning outwards across her skin. "Or maybe you just like to imagine every last bit of me. I'm sure if there's a part of me you'd especially like to see I'd be happy to show it to you one night in a dark room." Kyouhei felt a small tremor run through Sunako, and then stumbled back as she shoved him before running for the entrance way of the kitchen. And then Sunako Nakahara sneezed nosebleed blood and snot into a tissue that had somehow materialized in her hand, body shuddering once again with the sheer violence of it. Then she turned away from the blond boy's view, cleaned up her face, and walked towards him with a look of utter resentment.

"You want to play at this, dazzling creature? Well I'll tell you what part of you I'd really, _really _like to see. You're heart, you're still-beating heart warm and convulsing that I've personally ripped out of your chest in the palm of my hand. I'd like to see your small intestine strewn out across the floor in a sick, bloody mess, and I'd like to see your head sitting snugly on the top of a gate spoke, eyes wide and mouth gaping in an eternal scream that will never be heard or enjoyed by anyone except me. That's what I'd like to see." And with a display of superhuman speed she'd tucked the pancakes into a container so the heat wouldn't fade, covered a plate with paper towel and shook the bacon onto it, flicked the burner for the oatmeal right off, and piled the banana nut muffins onto one of the display plates she kept on top of the china hutch. All of this under twenty seconds.

Sunako stormed out of the kitchen with such speed that it gave Kyouhei whiplash. Only after she was gone did he go hunting through the sink drawers to see if he could find where she kept the steel wool. He was thinking of scrubbing his skin with it to get the remnants of Ranmaru's "payback" off.

_Later…_

Takenaga and Yuki had eventually woken up and schlepped their way grumbling into the kitchen at the aromatic promise of breakfast. Kyouhei kept them from eating what he had put aside as "Sunako's share", which he had recently started doing after he realized he seriously had no idea what Sunako was living off of, and expertly deflected and/or ignored all the questions asked by his housemates about the strange coloration on his skin and hair.

Ranmaru got into the house by 11:00 a.m., dressed in a traffic-cone orange shirt and ridiculous khaki tourist shorts. He looked like he needed a hug and a good cup of tea, but that didn't stop him from smirking knowingly at Kyouhei before Yuki tentatively asked him 1) if he wanted breakfast and 2) who he had curled up against last night.

Kyouhei only half-listened to the long, sad tale of some Belarusian vixen named Ingo or Ingla or something, who'd not only gotten Ranmaru so ungraspably smashed that he could hardly string a sentence together to save his life _and_ rocked his world with some very mind-blowing and possibly very messed up sex that lasted a good chunk of the wee hours of the night, she also manipulated him into buying her a garnet jewelry set and a black mink fur coat, muff and hat included.

It was only as Kyouhei set the kettle to boil that he realized how tear-jerkingly wonderful it was that Ranmaru was telling him this exact story at this exact moment in time. So deliciously, naively wonderful.

"Tell me Ranmaru, what do you think she could have done to you while you were all drooly and intoxicated?"

"Well, she could have done a number of things, I recall Inga having a certain saucy and irresistible fondness of leather, and whipped cream if I remember correctly…" Kyouhei listened carefully as Ranmaru slowly listed all the different things the seductive dominatrix could have done to him in the good five hours they were together, from things that made Kyouhei laugh out loud to things that made him feel a bit green and violated.

It was only after Ranmaru had carefully listed all the different things they could have done from naked twister while covered in oil to Pain or Dare (as Ranmaru explained soon after, Pain or Dare referred to a kinky sexual game much resembling Truth or Dare. In Pain or Dare, you usually had a kind of torture device with you, and if you couldn't take the dare, you had to succumb to pain instead. Ranmaru prayed that that was not one of Inga's choices of activities last night.) that Kyouhei realized that he had unknowingly prepared a cup of herbal Rosehip tea. For who? He could only guess.

_laterer…_

Kyouhei wobbled nervously under a tray of food, complete with the tea his body had somehow instructed him to make while Ranmaru was listing all the bile-rising stuff that Inga could have done to him last night.

He made his way slowly but surely up the stairs to Sunako's room, where he raised his hand to knock until he noticed the sign next to her door. "Wet Paint" it said, with an arrow pointing clearly toward her door. Kyouhei blinked. Wet Paint? Since when? Slowly and cautiously he touched a finger to the door, then pulled it back to see if some of the drying paint had come off onto his hand. Nothing.

Kyouhei eased his way into the room without knocking, offended that Sunako would try to keep people out of her room by making them believe that they could not touch her door to get in, and awed by the cleverness of that devious scheme as well. He stopped in his tracks at what we saw.

Sunako was splayed out on her futon wearing nothing but short black boxer shorts that showed an enticingly long line of her shapely legs and a black camisole that had rode up enough of her flat tummy to display a strip of stomach and the shadow of the bottom of her belly button. Unfortunately, that was as far as Kyouhei's lusting went when he took a good look at what condition she was in.

Sunako's face was flushed with fever, her sweat a shiny slickness on her neck and forehead. Her long crow-black hair was doing nothing to help the situation either. It had plastered as much of itself as it could to her sweat-sticky skin, her mouth-breathing wet and phlegmy with congestion.

Kyouhei attentively placed the food tray on the floor before stooping down next to her fitfully sleeping form, laying a hand on her hot forehead that quickly came away covered in her perspiration. He could think of nothing to do but to wake her, and then he would take it from there.

With a new found tenderness he shook her feverish body and called her name in a low voice, shaking her gently into consciousness. She awoke bleary and muddle-minded.

"Radiant creature? What…?" he volunteered to help her sit up as she shifted on her messy covers, leaning against her usual nest of pillows.

"I brought you some food, and I'll be back with some medicine and a thermometer in a second." He found his voice coming out surprisingly gentle, and he wriggled uncomfortably in his skin. Sunako rubbed her throat absent-mindedly.

"Food?" she croaked, voice hoarse and breaking. Kyouhei dragged the tray over to where he was sitting.

"We have; chicken yakitori with sweet soy sauce, octopus takoyaki, udon, and an artichoke. Oh, and some herbal tea." Sunako's eyes grew slightly rounder than usual as she pulled on a hooded charcoal gray sweatshirt with one of those fun pockets in the front as well as a pair of deep purple toe socks.

"Um. Isn't that…" she glanced at the food and then back at his face, "a bit much for one person? And where did you get all the takoyaki and yakitori and udon? Kami knows you couldn't cook _rice_ if your life depended on it." Kyouhei made a face at her but nodded in admittance.

"Takenaga made the yakitori, and Noi got her cousin who's staying over at her house for the weekend to cook the takoyaki and udon." Sunako blinked slowly at him.

"And the artichoke?" At this Kyouhei straightened up a bit.

"I boiled it myself." Another slow blink from Sunako.

"…and you didn't burn the water?"

"No!"

"Well it's not like it hasn't happened before! Even that scientist that came over couldn't understand how you'd managed it. I'm pretty sure I still have the newspaper article about that, actually." She held up her hands as if to deflect Kyouhei's outrage.

"That was _one time. _I can't _believe _you're still holding that against me."

"The house smelled awful for _weeks _Kyouhei, do you remember? We had to temporarily move out so we wouldn't die from the fumes. I still can't believe you took that risk again just to boil an artichoke. At least call a scientist so he can take some notes if you burn some H2O again."

"I can't believe this, I really can't. I try to do something nice for you and you completely shoot me down as well as remind me of past mistakes. God, I don't even know why I bothered to bring this all to you. You could've starved for all I care." Sunako was silent for a moment before reaching out and bringing the plate with the lone boiled artichoke into her lap, face lingeringly apologetic. After a silence so thick and tense you could probably cut a slice out of it and eat it for a midmorning snack Sunako finally said something, drawing Kyouhei's sadly undivided attention.

"So…how do I eat this?" The pitch-haired girl had unfortunately not had that many run-ins with the funky-shaped vegetable, and picked at its stiff spade-shaped leaves curiously. Kyouhei leaned to help her.

"Well, first, be careful because it might still be hot, it stores heat for an amazing amount of time. You might even come to the middle and find steam if you eat it soon enough." Sunako sat quietly in lotus position, left foot on her right thigh, right foot on her left, listening closely to his interesting food tips. Undaunted by her attentiveness Kyouhei continued on. "Then, you pull out one of the leaves, dip it in some mayonnaise, and scrape the tender part of the leaf off with your top or bottom teeth." Sunako processed the new information before replying.

"Won't I look funny when I eat it?" Kyouhei considered this for a moment.

"Yeah, you probably will, but I'll do it with you, so we'll both look funny." With that the straw-blond reached over and dislodged a leaf from the outer layer of the artichoke, motioning for Sunako to do the same. She mimicked his actions as he dipped his artichoke into the mayonnaise he had prepared on a plate, and watched as he showed her which part to eat and which part would be chewy and stiff. "Now watch me do it, alright?" Sunako watched better and closer than Kyouhei had expected her to as he scraped the tender part of the artichoke off with his top front teeth, feeling silly doing it in front of another person. Then, after he finished, he showed Sunako again what part he had scraped off, and urged her into doing it too.

Sunako put the bottom of the artichoke leaf in her mouth, tasted the creaminess of the mayonnaise, then, with her bottom teeth, scraped away the soft and juicy flesh that dwelled cunningly on the underside of the leaf. She looked up and caught Kyouhei's gaze.

"Good?" his voice drawled and held no anticipation, but inside he really wondered what she thought of the simple dish he had made for her. A ghost of a grin flickered like a flame's shadow across her face.

"Unique." Was her answer, and she smiled her small, hidden smile again as she reached for another leaf.

_Even laterer…_

Kyouhei had watched with an unnervingly creepy eagerness as Sunako ate her sick meal, his eyes following every time her chopsticks snagged food and brought it up to her mouth. Sunako had been especially pleased with the udon, though, when she found the tofu in had a crispy teriyaki outside. He watched as she slurped up the thick noodles and watched again as she ate and commented on the takoyaki, delighted with how fresh the octopus tasted, and how much she wanted to find out where Noi's cousin had got it.

She asked him briefly how Takenaga had managed to cook the yakitori, and Kyouhei answered that he had simply _made _it. He got a recipe out of one of the many cook books Sunako had handy, followed the instructions, and made some. Sunako raised her eyebrows at his surprised enthusiasm on the subject.

"No shocker there. That's how regular people _cook _Kyouhei. What, do you think everyone cooks like me? Just ask the common housewife, she'll tell you the recipes she knows are ones her mother taught her and ones that she cooks out of a book." Kyouhei gave her a sort of vacant stare.

"Nobody cooks like you do." Flattery slapped Sunako so hard in the face she almost flinched from impact. "But, didn't you cook from a book at some point too? Didn't your mother teach you any recipes?"

"I stopped using a cook book when I was eight." The dark-haired girl smiled to herself, "but my mother couldn't cook for the life of her. Much like you, actually. She was banned from the kitchen by the cook because one time, when she was making shabu shabu, she spilled a random pot of hot oil she had heating on the sink and burned part of her foot." Sunako grinned at a joke Kyouhei couldn't hear. "She still wears the scars. Ruka's the only reason I can cook for the life of me."

"Ruka?" Kyouhei arched an eyebrow.

"Our head cook. She refused to let me be like my mother in that respect."

Kyouhei was slightly flabbergasted at how she explained it to him. In all his mangas this would lead to some sad story about her past, or how she had a bad relationship with her parents, but she gave her statement though a mouth full of food, reaching for more yakitori.

Unfortunately, after their super happy luck luck food time was over, Sunako's condition seemed to go downhill. The only thing Kyouhei could do was sit and nest about in her room like some fat, worried mother hen and keep track of the time for her next medicine dosage, as well as taking up the job of making sure she was never tea-less. He brought brew like the stupid worker brooms in Disney's Fantasia kept bringing water to the well until the house was overflowing. Sunako was afraid she would bloat up like some kind of sponge with all the tea Kyouhei was offering her, but she dared not take away the only thing that he seemed to able to do in her sickly condition.

Kyouhei brought the Nakahara heiress a new cup of tea every time she finished one like some kind of deranged yet faithful dog, until, that is, Sunako ordered him out of her room because she wanted to nap off some of the lingering fever, which she couldn't do if he watching and waiting like a disturbing cross between a dedicated handmaiden and Jack the Ripper.

The blond boy moped his way out of her room, but held no argument to Sunako's insistent banishment. It wasn't that he was some kind of quivering servant boy who felt the urge to wait on Sunako's every want and wish, but he couldn't help but feel the need to pay her back for her own selfless deeds.

Kyouhei couldn't count on two hands to show how many times while in the madness of some kind of flu he'd felt cool hands drawing his hair away from his face and helping him sit up to eat off a tray of food not unlike the one he'd just brought her. Sunako wasn't as psychotic as him, hanging around in his room like a hovering nurse, but she brought him medicine and checked his fever, and every half hour she came in and exchanged the wet towel on his forehead with a fresher, cooler one.

The blond boy even remembered an instance when Sunako had forced him to strip all the way to his boxers and wrap himself in a down blanket. His clothes had adhered to his sweaty body that time around, and with only the cool yet warming touch of the satin goose feather blanket she'd given him against his skin, the fever subsided like magic.

Sunako treated Yuki as well when he was sick, because Machiko wasn't around to play nurse for her boyfriend, but Ranmaru had his chicklets to take care of him, many of whom really _were_ certifiednurses who worked at local hospitals, and Noi didn't leave Takenaga _alone _when he was sick. Sometimes, Kyouhei was pretty sure Takenaga would have rather nursed himself than have his chatty girlfriend buzzing like a bee in his ear when he was trying to rest off a cold.

_6:3 p.m…_

Whatever strange, motherly faze had come over him during the early part of the day was gone now, thank kami for that. Kyouhei lay boneless in the comfort of a nest of satin throw pillows and blankets he'd made for himself, watching the video game he was playing with half lidded eyes, his thumbs spasming on the controller with lazy yet admirable deftness.

Sunako had been asleep for about six hours now, since she'd kicked him out at 12:27p.m., and it was around 6:30 now if he was not mistaken. Kyouhei wasn't really thinking about Sunako's maladies at all now. In fact, he was too busy thinking about other things; like food.

Yuki came into one of the two family rooms a few minutes later, looking oddly content and at peace. He smiled lightly at Kyouhei when he came in before leaning one of his oddly feminine hips against the back of the chaise couch Kyouhei was sitting in front of.

"Hey, Kyouhei, we're playing mah jong in the first living room. You wanna play?" Kyouhei paused the game and rubbed his burning eyes, suddenly tired after staring at the TV screen for so long.

"Maybe." He muttered, cracking his knuckles and neck. To anyone else it might've looked like an intimidating gesture, but Yuki knew he was just moving the air out of his joints and rousing himself out of his zombie-like videogame spell.

Instead of playing himself Kyouhei ended up just watching as they played, looking on in a kind of half-asleep daze as his friends washed the little white mah jong tiles before setting them up again. He watched as Ranmaru and Takenaga played a game of Go while Yuki tried to teach himself to play cat's cradle, and then later Kyouhei joined in when Janga was brought out from the small game cabinet they kept. Yuki, as usual, won.

They played poker and black jack which none of them were any good at, then played Bullshit, Go Fish, and Old Maid, which they were all much more adept at. Dominoes were brought out and the four of them spent ten minutes remembering and arguing over how the game was played, and then finally settled down for a calm game of дурак (pronounced doo-rock with a very, _very _lightly rolled 'r'), a Russian game Sunako had taught them a while ago when she was in a good mood. Дурак's rules were similar to some of the rules used in the card game Spades, though дурак probably came first. Kyouhei won this time.

After much of their whimsical and homely gaming, they decided it was time for dinner. With Sunako sick they decided on take-out, and Ranmaru and Kyouhei were the ones chosen to pick it up. For Kyouhei, this was the perfect chance to put his carefully thought-out plan of revenge on Ranmaru in effect.

_On the way back from grabbing take-out…_

After Kyouhei and Ranmaru had picked up that evening's grub they walked in silence for a few minutes as Kyouhei made sure he had his threats lined up correctly. It was a simple plan, and he didn't know why he was fretting so much, but he just wanted to make sure that Ranmaru understood him, and that there were no loop-holes for the red-head to wiggle through.

"So…I have something that I wanted to discuss with you, Ran." The boy sporting his unnatural red locks turned to face his current companion, eyebrows only slightly raised to show that he was listening.

"And what might that be, Kyo?" This whole 'Kyo/Ran' thing had started happening about a month ago when they decided their names were too long. At first they had tried calling each other by their last names, but that hadn't worked well, so they'd switched to three-letter nicknames. Once, they tried to call Takenaga 'Taki', and he threatened to dig out their livers if they ever called him that again.

"You see, Ranmaru, I didn't really appreciate the body art I woke up with this morning, so I have a little information I'd like to give you as well as a business proposition." Ranmaru knew something evil was coming, he could smell it in the casualness of Kyouhei's stride. "I was very surprised to find out about your interesting sexual ventures last evening. As I was listening to all your long tales of what may or may not have happened, I realized there was someone else that hadn't heard this amusing tale. I think I should tell her, don't you?" Ranmaru paled. He knew which someone Kyouhei was speaking of.

"Blackmailing me?" his voice was a little hoarse at the thought of the catastrophe that would occur if Kyouhei spread his stories of sexual woe. The blonde's grin was meek and cheshire.

"Blackmailing you, yes, but for the sake of another. Poor, sweet Tamao. Did she really think you were going to be faithful? Ignorance _is _bliss, my fornicating friend. And since I'm such a nice guy I'll tell you what; I won't whisper a word of any of this to your precious, untainted upperclass flower if…" Ranmaru's nerves stood on end.

"_If?"_

"…I'll decide later. Right now, let's just make sure you understand what I'm telling you." Ranmaru's irritation spiked.

"You're telling me that you're going to tell my girlfriend I engaged in dirty gymnastics last night with a Belarusian model she's never met if I don't do whatever it is you want me to do. You haven't released that part of the information yet." His voice could've made a rabies-ridden tiger take a good few steps back. Kyouhei only picked at the dirt under his nails, and then looked up, expression satisfied and bored.

"Oh, wait! I just remembered something. I know how much your little 'éclair', as you call her, is gaga for you, and I have a good feeling she'll have trouble seeing past the stars in her eyes when/if I tell her about your cassanova's night out, so I took a short video on my phone of you telling us your dirty little secret." Ranmaru leaned to watch the video that was playing on Kyouhei's cell phone screen. It was mostly him talking about XXXX and XXXXX, but he sure hoped that Tamao was sitting down if Kyouhei ever showed her this, because she would go down like a sack of potatoes if she ever heard him talk about anything of that nature, _especially _about another woman.

"I get it, I get it. You've got some serious dirt on me and you're threatening to make me eat it. I understand and will follow your terms, when you come up with them." Ranmaru said the end of his sentence smugly, amused at the fact that now that Kyouhei had him, he didn't know what to do with him. The redhead could practically _smell _a loophole, and he knew it wouldn't be hard to find. Kyouhei always was a tad of a step behind in the political and civilized ways of going at someone else's throat.

_8:41p.m…_

Kyouhei finally broke down and went to see how Sunako was doing after he and his housemates shoveled themselves full of takeout. Yuki was playing a dating simulation while Ranmaru and Takenaga advised him on what answers to pick, and since Kyouhei hated stuff like that and quickly turned down their invitation to join them, he found himself all alone. So, after listening to the studious murmuring of housemates coming from the other room he made his way upstairs.

Kyouhei knocked briskly on Sunako's door to allow her to know that he was coming in.

"Yeah, whatever." This rude welcome at least signified that the creature of darkness had awoken from her nap. Sunako was sitting on the floor, in chibi form just like he'd left her, and was adjusting the TV to DVD mode, with the DVD in question sitting on her lap. Kyouhei slumped like spineless pudding to the ground.

"So what are we watching?" Sunako's eyebrow twitched.

"You mean what am _I _watching?"

"I think you know exactly what I mean." And with that, the blond-haired heartthrob snatched the DVD from her lap, flipping it to read the title and description with studious precision.

"I…don't know what this says."

"Låt Den Rätte Komma In."

"In Japanese, please?"

"右のいずれかを聞かせ"

"And now in English for the wonderful people who are reading this story?" Sunako was growing impatient.

"Let the Right One In. That's what it says, Let the Right One In."

"So this movie is in…a European language?" Sunako kicked him in the face and used his reaction time as leverage to snatch the DVD he was holding captive from him.

"Yeah, Swedish. And you, overly-lucent creature, can't watch it." Kyouhei swiped at her and knocked her legs out from under her, forcing her to fall down with an "oof."

"And why not?"

"Because," she muttered, standing herself back up and nearly shaking in anger, "it's in Swedish, you sod head! And it doesn't have Japanese subtitles and/or dub."

"…but you don't speak Swedish." Sunako gave him a you-are-the-hairiest-chimpanzee-I-have-ever-seen look before setting the shiny movie disc on the disc tray and pressing it back into the player.

"No, but I speak fluent English, which is what language this is dubbed in. Now, since, at long last, we've established that you cannot possibly watch this movie, GET OUT OF MY ROOM." Kyouhei hesitated.

"I don't want to." Sunako's head turned a full 180 degrees on her neck as she rotated her face to look at him, eyes crazed and bloodshot.

"_Tough." _If someone could hear Satan's voice, that would be it. Even Kyouhei The Unshakable was starting to get the collywobbles.

"No, really, I wanna watch. I won't make you explain much, I'll pick up on the plot no sweat! Besides, I know at least a _little _Engrish. I mean, English." Kyouhei morphed into his I'm-just-a-bored-innocent-teenager-who-wants-to-watch-a-movie-with-you fiasco, his bottom lip heavy with an inevitable pout. Sunako glared doom at him, used to the blonde's well-played game, but broke down as usual in the end.

"Fine, fine. Just stop doing that, it makes you irregularly unbearable with your stupid radiant glow."

"Just call be Mr. Sunshine." Kyouhei crooned smugly, snuggling up against one of Sunako's suede bean-bag chairs. But the Nakahara heiress would have none of it. Crossing her arms she stepped heavily on his stomach, making him wheeze with lack of air.

"Oh no you don't. Help me move the new *kotatsu so we can be warm while we watch; you know how freezing my room is."

"It wouldn't be so cold it you let in a little daylight, sweetheart." Kyouhei yawned, heaving himself back up from his seat. Sunako felt a slight hesitation in her chest, like her heart had delayed a beat or too when he'd called her a sweetheart. His sweetheart?

"Don't call me that." She grumbled as she and Kyouhei walked over to the kotatsu in the corner of her room, pressing a palm to her chest. _Maybe I have a heart murmur? I'll ask Dr. Tsukimoto next time I drop by for my check up. I need a refill on my medication anyway._

"Yeah," Kyouhei laughed, lifting with his knees as he and Sunako hefted the kotatsu up with their equally matched strength, "you're more like a sour pickle, and not a sweet heart."

"You don't even want to know what I think of you." Sunako hissed back, lowering the table carefully as they came to the middle of the room and set the heated table in front of the huge flatscreen TV Sunako's father had sent Sunako as a belated Kwanzaa gift one or two years ago. Kwanzaa was an American holiday in actuality, celebrating the presence of African American's in, surprise surprise, _America_, but her father, who was located in Nairobi, Kenya at the moment, sent it to her anyway.

Sunako went about her room turning off what few dim glowing lights she had and blew out a few of her candles before settling down next to Kyouhei underneath the kotatsu, also leaning against a mound of her many suede bean-bag chairs. Muting the TV as the trailers came on Sunako shifted into a comfortable position. This was one of her _favorite _movies.

"That was a really bad comeback, sour pickle, but now you've got me interested. What _do _you think of me?" Sunako gave him a hard, confused look before remembering what she had said about him not wanting to know what she thought of him a few minutes ago.

And suddenly the way he had asked her sounded perilously close to the way cute girls with meek smiles and colorful hair things used to pull good-looking guys with easy grins out into the hallways or some other private place and confess their "love" to them. They confessed their "love" in whispers and nervous giggles and sideways glances before they turned very rigid and very still and asked the good-looking boy what he, in turn, thought of her with all of her useless rainbow hairpins and too-short skirts and carefully practiced bubbly laugh.

And suddenly Sunako also grew very rigid and still, and craved painfully for a wall of bouncy giggles and yellow-pink hair clips and cell phone charms to hide behind, a mountain of things Kyouhei didn't care about to pull like a shroud over herself and cower underneath.

And suddenly both of them were so wonderfully raw, so beautifully exposed, and she could feel the warmth of something she couldn't name against the quivering fear of the world that dwelled underneath her skin, lukewarm and familiar.

But then the sensation was over, the contradicting churn of unease and zen calmness that Sunako felt she would vomit up in useless sentences about emotion and fright were gone. If the bile of useless floundering _had_ boiled up and out it would have left her empty and wistful like an oyster shell scooped of its meat. It was all just a slice of a second, a fragment of an idea; the sensation Sunako had so deeply yet so fleetly felt, and she swallowed her heart back down to her chest to clear her throat for speaking.

"Kimchi." Her voice was slightly hoarse and fluttered like the uneasy shift of moth's wings in her throat.

When a person dies, and nobody finds them for quite a few hours, something called rigor mortis sets in. It is considerably hard to move any limbs of the corpse, including the head, after the rigor sets in, because the muscles are contracted. The muscles contract because the heart stops beating and the muscle cells stop receiving the chemicals they need for energy. Calcium, when it enters muscle fibers, makes the muscle contract. When in death, the calcium is left in the muscles, causing them to contract, because the calcium is not being let back out, resulting in rigor mortis. Sunako learned this interesting fact in her avid studies of dead bodies, and she felt much like a corpse with rigor, stiff, unmoving, as Kyouhei scanned her face with his eyes.

"What? Who's kimchi?" Unfortunately for all her anxiety, the bone-headed blonde did not understand her previous statement.

"You are."

"How am I kimchi?"

"Because," Sunako said, taking a quick breath and a brief swallow to numb her nervousness, "kimchi tastes really good, if you're in the mood for it, but it smells eye-wateringly strong. The idea of kimchi is; you have to get past the funky smell, and once you do, you enjoy it." Kyouhei was silent for a moment before answering.

"So, what, you're telling me I taste good?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows and leaning in to create a suffocating closeness. Sunako could feel the dam of blood in her nose about to break. She took a short, floundering breath of air.

"No!" she hissed, spreading her hand on his face and pushing him quickly away, "I was telling you to take a shower! Now shut up, the movie's about to start."

_10:46p.m. (the movie lasted and hour and 54 minutes)…_

Let the Right One In was…interesting. Kyouhei could see why Sunako liked it so much, but was also at a loss to why she did too. It wasn't all that gory, not really anyway. The plot was simple, the characters young and naïve, and the end was…relatively happy.

After it finished and all the credits had rolled down the screen both Sunako and Kyouhei flopped back to lay underneath the warmth of the kotatsu, pulling the thick red blanket with the black and yellow designs up to their chins, content and sleepy. Kyouhei ran Sunako by what he thought the movie was about, the plot as he'd picked it up. Sunako was surprised at how well her companion had followed the story-line without understanding what they were saying, and reluctantly congratulated him. Kyouhei, like the air-head he was, puffed up like a pigeon at her rueful praise.

"The only thing I don't understand is; why do _you _like this movie so much? See, I'm a normal person, and I like horror in general. But you, you're a gore lover, so why this one of all movies?" This was, actually, a very clever question, and Sunako thought out her answer before speaking.

"I think," she started, voice moderately hesitant, "that it disturbed-ness appeals to me more than gore does period. It's so…I don't know. They're kids you see, and they're so naïve. And yet, they're thrown reluctantly and exposed into this world of violence and death. Oscar kind of revels in it, at least he does when he's dishing it out, but Eli is more…wizened in that state of affairs. She hunts for food like a man hunts to feed himself and/or his family; even though he might get some feeling of sport out of it, at the end of the day, it's just what he needs to survive." Kyouhei blinked at her.

"Well I suppose that's a good reason. I really liked how the director obsessed over the contrast of red and white. You saw it _everywhere._" Sunako rolled onto her back and closed her eyes, ready to sleep, but gave Kyouhei a short smile.

"Yeah."

The two were silent for quite a while, slowly drifting off to the faint lingering of the movie's intense soundtrack still playing in their head and the warm glow of the wavering flames casting dim light, close to darkness, as they wobbled watchfully on their wicks.

Kyouhei felt Sunako's slender foot reach out and kick him softly, making him jerk instinctively to protect his masculinity because Sunako's aim, due to her sleepiness, was a little too low. He caught her foot in his large hand and squeezed it slightly in punishment for kicking him, even if it was a little half-hearted.

"Dazzling creature, you cannot fall asleep in my room, cause you know you're way to fat and heavy for me to carry." Sunako had not been in her chibi form since the "kimchi" talk, and her hair reached out like the black hands of old spirits, her chest rising and falling in the calmness of near-sleep. He growled almost playfully in response.

"Just let me stay here, I'm too tired to walk all the way back to my room. It's not like I'm going to grope you in your sleep or anything. Not much." The foot of Sunako's he still held captive once again attempted to kick him for his perverted comments.

"…_maybe_. But only if you blow out all the candles, I don't want my room setting on fire." Kyouhei pushed up grudgingly from him comfortable position and started blowing out the candles as Sunako had ordered him too.

"_Again_. You don't want your room setting on fire _again._" He added, small smirk on his face. Sunako grabbed a miniature pillow from somewhere near her and threw it him with her eyes closed. It landed nowhere near him.

"That was _one time_."

"And once was definitely enough." Sunako would never admit it, but she smiled sheepishly to herself.

After Kyouhei finished snuffing out all the fire-hazards he lay back down underneath the press of the kotatsu's warmth. He'd prefer this over a bed any day.

_1:14a.m…_

Kyouhei awoke with a slight jolt, and frantically tried to figure out where he was. He wasn't at his parent's house as he'd previously thought, but…Sunako's room? He rummaged for last night's memories. He'd been watching a Swedish film with Sunako, one of her favorites, and then…and then she'd let him sleep over, so long as he didn't get all up in her space or anything like that.

Speaking of Sunako…the half-asleep blond felt out for his pitch-haired sleeping buddy, moving his hands through the soft folds of the red kotatsu blanket. Finally he felt something warm and solid touch his hand. He wiggled toward it until he was right up behind the horror-loving shut-in.

Sunako had snuggled most of herself underneath the table, leaving only some of her dark hair peeking out from under the blanket. Kyouhei lay frozen, quietly enjoying the warmth that radiated off of the human body in front of him as well as the heat that radiated off of the table above.

His fear was an uncomfortable clenching in his chest that cooled his sweat and made him restless. She was so close to him, mere inches. He could taste his heart in his mouth. Slowly, almost angrily, he forced it back down and reached out a hand. Tentatively, nervous as a child, he touched her shoulder. She didn't stir. Inching and wriggling he finally came up behind her and, with bated breath, curled his arm gently around the front of her shoulder and over her clavicle. He shifted ever closer at a snail's pace until he was right up against her, the curve of her back a toasty-warm human pleasure against his chest. Fear melted away gradually as he squeezed her ever closer to feel her sleek and feminine body snug up against him.

Kyouhei stayed awake as long as his body would let him to silently enjoy the greedy pressure of her body. But, eventually, he slumped, sleep luring him back once again. He rolled away from her just before he fell away to his dreams, careful not to sleep upon her.

_1:16a.m…_

Sunako was too tired and content to push Kyouhei away when she felt him move against her. She was hardly awake anyway, only faintly aware of his short-lived embrace. He felt so much larger than her as he gripped her one shoulder like a drowning man, pressing himself flush against her mostly sleeping form. She knew even then as sleep clogged her thoughts that she would forget this all in the morning.

Kyouhei rolled away after a while and when he did Sunako felt at a loss of his heat and strangely loving embrace. How cliché this whole situation was, though only cliché because so many others had been in the same situation.

Blindly, she reached out a searching hand and touched the warmth of Kyouhei's arm, only to pull away, fingers scuttling like a frightened spider back to their owner to curl as if they'd been burned against her chest. This proved it. She wasn't ready for anything like this yet. Disappointed and frustrated at herself and her cowardice she rolled ever farther away from the male of her interest, burying herself in the motherly embrace of the kotatsu blanket.

Sunako always had been afraid of things she couldn't see.

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*Typhoid Mary was a restaurant chef that refused to wash her hands when she cooked and gave many of her customers typhoid.

*kotatsu's are Japanese, usually wooden tables with a thick blanket attached along the edge of the table and a heater built into the underside of the tabletop. Many people enjoy sitting at kotatsu's immensely, and because of their warmth, they are very easy to fall asleep under.

*Let the Right One In is a wonderful movie that I watched a few weeks ago. Watch it. It's amazing.

Review! Please please please review! do you how cheap it is to not review a chapter that is THIS. FREAKING. LONG? SUPER CHEAP! REVIEW!


	4. flirtation station

Disclaimer: what in the what what again? Haven't I done this before?

AHEM: I will be using a little Japanese in this chapter (hardly any, really) because it pertains to an occurrence in the story. YES I will translate and NO it's not there because I am so blindingly wapanese that I feel the need to randomly insert "kawaii!" and "ashiteru" and "demo" and whatever other junk people load their fanfics with to try to make the atmosphere seem more authentic. I speak English, this fanfic is written in English, and therefore I do not find the need to include arbitrary Japanese unless it is somehow necessary. IT PERTAINS TO THE STORY. Get it? Got it? Good.

DEDICATION: I haven't really done many dedications, maybe two at the most, but I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a good fanfiction friend of mine who lives in Egypt, and wish for her to keep safe and remain marvelous.

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Kyouhei suffered a serious moment of disorientation when he awoke. Unlike in his room with its nice, wide-eyed windows and light-reflecting, peach-colored walls, he broke from his dreams only to be engulfed be darkness. During the night he'd partly struggled from the motherly warmth of the kotatsu, and was stretched like a lug, his left arm and foot under the thick blanket, his right arm and leg flailed out haphazardly across the plush of the imported carpeting.

Once he'd figured out where he was and how he'd gotten there, Kyouhei braced for screaming. Any girl, including Sunako, no matter if they'd invited him or not, would have screamed like someone was killing them if they found a man in their bed. Well, Kyouhei was a bad example. In fact, most women would be pleasantly surprised and drag him back under the covers like a sinking ship. In retrospect Sunako wasn't the best example either. Once she found him she wouldn't scream; she would assault and bludgeon. Very different from the usual feminine screech and hurling of pillows and, Kyouhei found, less preferred.

The runaway's eyes took a while to adjust to the dark of the room, but once they did they were drawn to the weak glow of Sunako's electric sconces, which had been dimmed to a murmur of light, soft enough that it shouldn't wake him. Sunako had recently repainted her room. On second thought, let's rephrase that. Sunako and _friends _had recently repainted her room. To acquiesce her roomie's urgings she finally consented to paint her room a rich, homey burgundy, which turned out to be a surprising if not pleasant contrast to her earlier décor of uniform gray and black. The curtains were still kept closed, heavy, black velvet as usual, the shutters were kept down, and nothing but her precious sconces, candles, and the occasional glow of laptop or T.V. screen lit the room.

Kyouhei began seeking out his companion's figure immediately. Her prized laptop was carefully shut, a paperback copy of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley bookmarked neatly on top of it, along with some pens and a purple highlighter scattered with a tidy carelessness upon the cover. That was the definition of Sunako's desk; tidy. The recluse's room might've been a sty when the famed dazzling creatures first arrived, and still fell into a nasty clutter when Sunako was particularly stand-offish or perplexed, but her desk had always been the height of cleanliness. And let's face it, Sunako was anal about trimness. She was a neat freak down to a T, and would lose all her life's meaning if she ever were to hire a maid. Sure, she'd grumble and growl to the last, but she loved her work like you'd love a child.

After finally noting that Sunako was not in the vicinity of her glorified work station where she obviously sat and planned his demise a different way each night, Kyouhei dug about underneath the kotatsu for his misplaced companion, rifling through the blanket like a hog rifling for truffles. Again, the dark-haired shut-in was nowhere to be found.

"Sunako?" the wannabe delinquent kept his voice low, just above a whisper, confused as to where his little hand maid had gotten to. He snuffled about for a minute more, calling her name gently and then a little louder, until he confirmed his suspicions that the metaphorical bird had indeed flown the metaphorical coop. This knowledge left him with an empty feeling, a feeling he had not had much of a taste of since his days living with his parents, when his mom would go out for hours, sometimes days at a time, leaving him to fend for himself off of shelves of dry, bland cereal and the warm, lifeless comfort of instant ramen. Added to his already very empty-feeling stomach, Kyouhei was not the happiest camper in the chandelier.

Still, when Kami closes a door, he opens a panty drawer. Specifically a certain raven-haired roommate's panty drawer. The lecherousness deep in Kyouhei's fowl, scheming, old boy soul was rekindled with the hope of triumph-via-g-string, and he sprung up faster than you could say Irish wristwatch six times fast. His first undie-raid had been remorsefully unsuccessful, but Kyouhei was not known for giving up easily. This was a trait Sunako had recently begun to loathe, no matter what a virtue persistence may be.

Nimbler than any Jack-the-candlestick-jumper he was up at Sunako's bureau, tearing open those drawers like nobody's business. Even with the light of the sconces the room was still dark, especially the corner where the recluse's dresser was located because Sunako had set up no means of light there, which meant it was mostly in shadow and Kyouhei was forced to identify the contents of the drawers by means of touch.

He excavated a drawer he thought might've held socks, and then one that might've held distasteful sweaters Sunako was hiding so she wouldn't have to wear. Suddenly, in the third drawer down, Kyouhei's hand ghosted over something lacey. The lace was courser than he thought it would be, and there was a lot of it. Something wasn't quite right. Upon pulling it out, though, he soon discovered his instincts had been incorrect. In his hand the blond boy held a pair of nylons. Lacey nylons, to be exact. The lace was black, and was done in a seductive, almost sinister floral design, blooms, leaves, and vines making an intricate black web. The lace was courser that Kyouhei would've expected because it was made for stretching, and, to his embarrassment, he noticed a girlish, flirtatious trim along the top of the waistband.

The blond runaway's face was hot with shame as he stuffed the, dare he say it, _sexy _nylons back into Sunako's drawer which he shut hastily, wiping his hands nervously on the thighs of his jeans (which he had slept in) immediately thereafter.

Breakfast sounded like a good distraction from the unexpected garment he had just stumbled upon, and, after he'd done an eccentric and thorough once-over of the bedroom to make sure Sunako would find no indications of her blond housemate's earlier dealings, he breathed out the nervous weight in his chest and sauntered, default stupid expression on his face, into the kitchen.

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Sunako had been at it for a while now. Contrary to her late-night musings she had, in fact, remembered the events of last night done under the shroud of darkness, and her heart was stuttering so badly in her chest she had to busy herself to keep it quiet.

The sable-haired beauty had awoke at 5:00a.m., per usual, to find a certain stupid ape mouth-breathing in her face. Sunako had crawled out from under the kotatsu in disgust, and went to find shelter in the pages of her newest read; Frankenstein. Shelley had very advanced, very modern commentary for a woman living in the 1800s, educated though she was, and the specter-like girl was fascinated with the monster in the book compared to the monster in the movie. As far as comparisons went she liked the book much, _much _better.

Once 7:00a.m. rolled around Sunako was up and at 'em, because there were chores to be done. She loaded the dishwasher, called the doctor to tell him she was coming later around 2:00p.m. if that was good for him, and set up an appointment for Yuki at the dentist's because he hadn't been in six months and he was really chowing down on the sweeties. While Sunako was oiling the gate she rang up the landscaping people to ask if they had the medicine for the old sakura they kept in the back, as well as the apricot sapling Auntie had wanted planted in the greenhouse dome in remembrance of a friend's great uncle who'd died of a stroke.

By the time Sunako had finished the "odd jobs", which were reminders she tacked to the fridge with magnets to keep herself on schedule, it was already 8:20a.m. Breakfast cooking time. Today, Sunako decided, was Quiche Day. In the beginning, her roomies were not the biggest fans of Quiche Day, mostly because when they first came to live with her they were extremely afraid of western food. Soon, though, they came to love it, for Sunako was a miracle worker in the kitchen, and it was very seldom she made something her living-mates didn't like.

Like some kind of distorted ballerina, or at least with the same grace, Sunako lit like a moth about the kitchen, stacking ingredients and necessary utensils on the sleek granite counters, the memorized recipe humming like a mantra in her head. _6 eggs beaten, 2 cups chopped spinach, 1 pound bacon, cooked and crumbled…_

The knife flashed and made satisfactory knocking sounds against the cutting board as she went at the spinach, a hunk of Swiss cheese sitting patiently on a plate, waiting to be shredded. Sunako hummed a tune that may or may not have been the theme of The Godfather as she rushed with an uppity, almost jubilant zeal through her kitchen, searching for a nine inch glass pie plate for her pie crust.

The best time for thinking is when you were cooking. True, there are a lot of other things that needed your attention, like layering the bacon and the spinach and mixing the heavy cream and eggs, but cooking was also like a sort of meditation, if you catch the Jedi drift. Sunako had a lot to think about. It was winter now. She had to get a new snow shovel, and new winter apparel, and start thinking of a gift for Yuki, a.k.a great, great, great granddaughter of Yuki Onna, who she was seriously thinking of inviting over this Christmas. She also thought about Kyouhei, despite her vicious attempts not to. Why was she getting like this over that stupid radiant creature? God, she felt sick to her stomach just _thinking _about his_ Neanderthal-like _idiotism, his _cretinous _ego, his _obnoxious _strength, his _impossible _appetite, and his _moronic _and _random _lapses of affection for…her. Herself. Anger quickly changed temperature to confusion which was stoked into igniting right back into aggravation. Somewhere, somewhere deep, _deep _inside her cold, dark, blind body, she had admitted something to herself. She was not exactly new to the embarrassed anger at herself she felt when pondering about Kyouhei and his dealings. She had felt this feeling many times, as had so many other girls her age. Only once had she chosen to express it. Once was more than enough. Still, even though she may have unconsciously admitted it to herself once or twice in the shadiest, ugliest parts of her most unmemorable dreams, it did not mean she would not deny it to herself again and again until fire scorched the sky red and the Earth imploded while the Sun when supernova.

A sound at the entranceway scared her thoughts away like uneasy birds on jittery wings, and she roused from her stupor to address the creature that had interrupted her from her extremely recreational activity of sitting precariously on the back of a table chair and watching dreamily as the quiche cooked. _33 minutes, 32 minutes, 31 minutes…_

"Something smells amazing." Sunako didn't know why she was expecting it to be Kyouhei. It seemed the most predictable and, dare she say, cliché event, so perhaps it was a well-thought assumption, but it was not Kyouhei's naturally muscular frame the filled the doorway. This figure was more feminine, more red-haired, more…Ranmaru.

The heir to the top seat of the monster Morii Corporation leaned languidly in the threshold, looking for all the life of him like he'd just walked out of an exotic man-harem than out of a third-story, 20ftx20ft bedroom in the esteemed halls of the Nakahara estate.

"Quiche Day, is it?" Ranmaru was being a mite _snippy _this morning, Sunako observed. He stretched like a cat and smoothed his way along the table, boneless and swift. His eyes slit as he looked at her back, watching her grate Swiss cheese to melt on top of the quiche when it was done. "I saw that Kyouhei never came out of your room last night." Sunako's hand slowed for a moment before she sped up again, working the cheese hunk against the sharp metal slots. She didn't know who spit on his toothbrush, but she wasn't about to let it concern her, no matter how horrible he was being.

"I also noticed that you left him in there, alone. Actions like that raise suspicion, Sunako." Ranmaru was leaning against the table now, arms folded across his halfheartedly covered chest. The grunt of the grater was the only sound in the room. "Some might even think, I know you're not going to like this, Sunako, but some might even think you were _sleeping _with him." The dark-haired heiress actually grated her own skin when he pronounced his insinuation. Blood ran fast from the place where she'd shredded off her own flesh, and she didn't even have time to admire it she was so angry. What? _What? _This was so unlike Ranmaru. Perverted and scheming though he was, a large factor in the attempts made to turn her into a lady, he usually left her alone and was remotely kind with her.

Ranmaru grinned with a mean sort of pleasure at her surprise. "What? You two did _sleep _last night, didn't you? Or were you guys up all night watching movies and playing video games? I already _know _you weren't studying." Sunako knew so many things, though she was sure they didn't think so. She knew about deeds done in the dark, whispered into her ears by air-headed friends breathless with giggles. She knew what happened behind closed doors just like any other teen girl her age, and she knew _exactly _what Ranmaru was insinuating. She'd been semi-normal once, after all. On the other hand, playing dumb had always been her plan B.

"Yeah, we slept together. He snores like a pig! I don't know why people would find that so scandalous, though, I mean, you've slept with Kyouhei a bunch of times. So has Takenaga, and Yuki too." Ranmaru sputtered in surprise and denial before he finally bit the bait. Sunako didn't mind reeling him in. "So, yeah. If that's all you need then you can go do something else, the quiche won't be ready for...," the Nakahara heiress leaned backwards until the timer was in view, "About twenty minutes or so." Ranmaru looked at her like he knew she was feigning innocence, but she felt the self-doubt he was struggling with. Let him wonder if he was using the wrong type of carrot.

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"Do you have a hat I can borrow?" After Ranmaru had all but stormed out the kitchen the rest of the males slowly trickled in, drawn by the enticing scent of bacon, eggs, and melted Swiss cheese. They'd eaten full and well, which made them energetic and idealistic, except for Kyouhei, who usually got nappy and sluggish after each meal, no matter if he'd just woken up. As usual Sunako's housemates raved about her exquisite cooking, and it was only when she had her back turned to them, washing dishes, that she found she was smiling to herself. She had to admit, she worked hard to make good meals and keep the house clean. At heart, though, Sunako was an even bigger slacker than Kyouhei. Laziness, as Sunako liked to remind herself, was a state of mind, not body. Laziness meant that doing chores was actually a _chore, _onethat you felt the explicit need to whine about, no matter how diligently you performed it.

"Why would you need my hat?" Kyouhei was sitting on the ground playing a video game on mute, his chin touching his chest he was in such a jellied position. Sunako was in her chibi form, as she had been since she'd awoken, and she'd donned a warm coat and gloves to fight the cold front that was slowly stroking its icy fingers on the window's at night; painting Jack Frost's pictures, and freezing the dew with its cold breath so the grass turned white and the soil hard and infertile.

"I'm going out."

"That still doesn't explain-"

"I lost my hat. I need to borrow yours. I don't understand why this is such a hard concept to grasp, radiant creature." Today was not normally grocery shopping day, but Sunako figured since she was going to the doctor's she might as well grab a few snacks, and probably some vegetables, on the way. The eccentric heiress clapped her hands to regain the blond boy's wavering attention. "_Can I borrow it or not?"_

"Yes! Kami, let a man level up before you start losing your head. Oh, wait, too late." The only son of the Takano family laughed at his ill joke. After a few more moments he paused his game and slid into a position that would not give him scoliosis. "Anyway, why do you need it? What happened to that one you wear to school, like, everyday?" Sunako was already in the front hall, digging through Kyouhei's winter apparel cubby.

"Spilled tomato sauce on it. Still trying to get it out."

"Why are you going out today?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?"

"Why are you trying to avoid answering them?"

Sunako couldn't help but roll her eyes as she wound a scarf around her neck before pulling on Kyouhei's extra toasty woolen knit cap, strategically moving around her hair so it wouldn't get in her face if the wind decided to blow.

"I'm going to the doctor's to get a new prescription, and then I'm going to pick it up, and then I'm going to grab a few groceries." Kyouhei turned to look at her and she looked back, surprised. "What? If you want me to get you some snacks, you need to give me some loafer money. I'm not paying to feed your fat face."

Kyouhei, like some sort of deranged cat, rolled over the back of the couch and landed on his feet with a thump, already casting about for his green cable knit sweater, preparing to leave.

"What prescription?" At Kyouhei's question Sunako's face turned a healthy red, and she waddled off towards the front door. The blond boy hopped on one foot as he hastily pulled on his boots, tripping to catch up with his object of reluctant affection. Sunako had already scurried halfway down the driveway by the time Kyouhei was on the front steps, rapidly shaking his arm through his coat sleeve as he held his gloves in his teeth, a handsome if not hilarious site to see on such a bitter and barren midmorning.

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Sunako took the tram like she usually did, trying to not to start a spat with the dazzling creature as they rolled with timely grace through the stations, moving accordingly to allow people to pass through the doors as they opened and shut at each stop. This proved to be harder than the dark-haired girl had anticipated.

"Where are we going?" This was at least the _hundredth time _the radiant creature had asked her that, prodding her like her little cousin Arata used to when they went to family gatherings. Sunako gritted her teeth.

"To the doctor's."

"Yes, yes, but _why _are we going to the doctor's?"

"Because I need to have a checkup." This was what the Nakahara heiress told Kyouhei each and every time he asked where they were going. As the doors opened to allow people off and onto the platform of the next stop Sunako stood up to offer her seat to an old lady. Kyouhei stood too, just to be on the same level with his traveling companion, and somewhere inside herself Sunako smiled. Since he'd had this conversation with the black-haired girl many times, the blond runaway tried a different tactic.

"What _kind _of doctor are we going to?" Sunako hesitated, weighing whether this information would be harmless or not.

She said slowly, "One that will give me a checkup." This caused Kyouhei to frown, for he'd thought he had her there. He opened his mouth to say something like 'Could you _be _anymore cryptic?' but instead Sunako turned around and shushed him. "If you stop asking questions," she bargained, adjusting her grip on the ceiling strap she was holding onto, "I'll buy you your choice of three snacks and let you pick tonight's dinner, ok?" Kyouhei paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright." He muttered, moving a bit to the side to let a passenger squeeze past him. "I'll find out soon enough."

Sunako was about to reply when a man in a hurry shoved past her, the recoil of one of his backpack straps slapping brutally across her face. Hand to her nose she stumbled into Kyouhei, who steadied her lest she fall. The blond twisted and opened his mouth to yell a couple of choice words at the careless businessman, but Sunako had felt him tense and wrapped a hand lightly around his wrist to get his attention and calm him. She waved away his protestations, but allowed him to loom over her like some sort of gorgeous version of Nosferatu, warding off would-be evil doers that might bring her any more harm. Sunako was too tired to argue that she could look out for herself. For once, it was nice to have someone care.

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The doctor's waiting room décor was just what Kyouhei had expected. Neutral, nursing-home beige walls, speckled white floor tile you found commonly in public bathrooms, carpet chairs, a tank of frowning, overfed fish built into the wall, and horrible, unflattering rectangle lights buzzing blandly on the office-tile ceiling. In the middle of the room, a stooped, retired coffee table crouched on its wooden legs, a motley group of expired celebrity magazines spread haphazardly on top of it. A fake, unidentifiable fake plant squatted inconspicuously in the corner, melting effortlessly into the tasteless, modern furnishings of the waiting room. Even the air was lukewarm.

Kyouhei followed Sunako obediently into the office and sat next to her, avoiding the chair with the suspicious-looking yellowish-white stain. They sat quietly, looking at the assortment of patients also clustered in the beige purgatory. A woman with a baby in her arms, a small girl on her knee, and a round, pregnant stomach sat directly across from the two housemates. She looked calm and solemn, if not a bit gray around the edges, and two seats down from her sat a man with a grimace so set it had drawn permanent lines on his face. An old, fat lady sat silently near the fish tank, a celebrity magazine open on her thighs. She was reading about foot creams that helped with dry skin. Kyouhei felt nauseous with boredom.

Next to him Sunako sifted through the poor selection of magazines on the table until eventually giving up and choosing a random one from the glossy, slippery pile. The blond boy slouched in his seat and picked at a stray thread along the lining of his jeans pocket, ultimately lolling his head to the side to read over his rich housemate's shoulder. She had been reading about gingivitis a minute ago, but was now flipping aimlessly through the pages. She stopped flipping for a moment to scratch her nose, and then the two of them leant to read about whatever she had happened to land on. They happened to be looking at a sexual FAQ page the magazine displayed each month. Sunako slapped the periodical closed like it had bitten her, then tossed it quickly onto the table. The two turned slightly red and scooted away from one another, embarrassed at what they had seen.

"Nakahara Sunako? Dr. Satou is ready for you now." Relief flooded the two housemates as the dark-haired girl nodded and stood, responding to the medical assistant's beckoning.

"Wait here, ok?" the heiress murmured in her parting, disappearing through the door that led deeper into the office.

It only took ten minutes for Kyouhei to get antsy.

What was he supposed to do now that his companion was gone? He was definitely _not _reading a magazine, and he was not going to acknowledge the receptionist batting her eyes at him from her desk at the back of the waiting room. Besides, how did he know that Sunako was alright? There plenty of perverts lurking about. Why, he'd just heard of a lecherous doctor in Tokyo who'd been terrorizing his female patients, doing all sorts of dishonorable things. If that could happen in Tokyo it could happen there, the blond lout decided, and played it cool as he managed his way to the desk where the overly flirtatious receptionist sat, already busting her buttons with pride as he sidled up to her.

"Hey." If Ranmaru could be nonchalant, so could he.

"Hey yourself." Her eyes were half-lidded and her lips smiled lazily, chin cradled in a manicured palm. She wasn't bad looking, in fact, she was kind of pretty. Her eyes were a light brown and she looked like a nice person, and her cooking probably wasn't anything to sniff at either (when food was involved Kyouhei was an expert), but it would never be like Sunako's. This was weird for Kyouhei; he was not used to taking a close look at the yahoos that came after him, much less flirting with them. But even so, Kyouhei rested his hip against the front of the desk like a regular Lothario and leaned his elbow on the countertop, mimicking the seducers that inhabited most of the soap operas Kyouhei had caught Sunako secretly watching and, guiltily, had watched along with her.

"I was wondering if you could do me a favor." Charming smile/smirk? Executed.

"What kind of favor?" The receptionist was purring now, pressing up against her side of the desk to help boast her exceptional endowment. Kyouhei glanced embarrassed about the room at his purgatorial companions, worried that they were grimacing at this girl's performance-and his-behind his back. To his relief the old lady was absorbed in some knitting she had brought with her, the pregnant lady was playing cat's cradle with her daughter, and he could only describe the old man as being lost in some very deep thought. Assured that no one was acknowledging his humiliating behavior he pushed on.

"Well, that girl that just went in there? She's my sister, and I'm a little worried about her, you know how it is. She's afraid of needles." The girls in the soaps drooled over rebels with a heart.

"Oh, I don't think Dr. Satou will be using _needles_, he's a-"

"So you'll let me check on her, won't you?" Kyouhei interrupted, hitting her with a brilliant, maybe even dangerous grin once again.

"Oh yes, yes of course." The receptionist, whose name tag announced her first name was "Miu," was nodding to herself, a blush turning her face a rosy pink. "Go right on in, second room on your right."

Kyouhei was through the door and down the hallway before the nurse even had a chance to slip him her phone number or drop another suggestive comment. He counted the doors as he went until he came to the door Miu had spoken of, which he promptly opened without knocking. And there, there on the doctors examination table sat Sunako, completely naked from the waist up. Of course, she kept her modesty by pressing a large white towel to her chest to hide anything that she wasn't inclined to let anyone, especially Kyouhei, get a look at, and she didn't look the least bit distressed, but Kyouhei suffers from a severe condition of boneheadedness and it took him a moment to notice. In fact, Sunako looked bored. In ten seconds flat Kyouhei morphed from surprised to embarrassed to angry and alert.

"I'll kill 'im." The blond runaway didn't exactly know where this vow had bubbled up from, but he knew that if that man had laid a single wandering finger on the girl in front of him he would keep his grave promise. Sunako merely raised her eyebrows.

"Oh no you won't, he hasn't even given me my checkup yet." Kyouhei simply stared at her, aghast, and the heiress self-consciously adjusted the towel that allowed her her modesty. This is when she realized that perhaps her light-haired housemate was a tad too…ill informed. Sunako hopped off her perch on the table and walked over to him. "You _do _realize we're at a _dermatologist's _office, right? And you _do _realize that I have my shirt off so that Dr. Satou, whose family is_ extremely close friends with the Nakahara's and are greatly trusted by them, _is going to look at my back skin, right? You do also understand that if Dr. Satou hadn't gotten married to his charming wife Midori, we would have probably been forced into an arranged marriage sooner or later by a difference of seven years." The blond boy's mouth hung slightly agape. He really was the hairiest chimpanzee Sunako had ever met.

"Is everything in order in here?" A man stood at the door, easy smile gracing his lips as he looked with familiar warmth to Sunako, who grinned mildly back.

"Everything's alright Hideki. Kyouhei," she continued, baring her teeth at said brainless oaf, "was just leaving." The man turned to look at Kyouhei, his eyes holding not an ounce less of warmth than when they had looked at Sunako, just more confusion.

"Oh?"

"Yup. Nice to meet you though." Kyouhei had figured it was his turn to speak. Expecting a handshake from Hideki he hesitated, but one did not come. Feeling extremely unwanted in the small room he nodded to the both of them then hurried out into the hallway, frowning as the door closed behind him. The runaway stayed and listened to the murmur of voices behind the door a few moments longer before making his way back to the waiting room more like a kicked puppy than an impressive delinquent who protected helpless young women from lechers and the like.

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Kyouhei ended up playing cat's cradle with the little girl in the waiting room-whose name he learned was Akane yet he called her Hime to make her laugh-until Sunako finished with her check-up and bid her _sweet _"Hideki" adieu. Miu the Receptionist frowned deeply upon his going, but lit up like a Christmas tree when the good doctor walked into the waiting room to see the two housemates out. Apparently, happily married as he was, his studly magnetism still remained.

The silence became increasingly awkward for Kyouhei as he and his black-haired companion completed the rest of their errands, picking up groceries, bargaining with the wrinkly man at the new fish stall on the corner, and visiting a few shops that were a bit more à la mode than those nearer to their house because Dr. Satou's office was along the outskirts of Tokyo, while the Nakahara mansion rested comfortably in the cushiony placidity of the suburbs.

Sunako sucked quietly on a small lollipop on the ride back home, arranging the shopping around her so that no one would be able to snatch something from her bags without her noticing. Kyouhei studied his nails. They were in an impressive rut, he felt, the lot of them. Something peculiar or exciting had not happened to the crew of housemates (plus Noi, since sometimes she was involved) for the longest time. _Like the calm before the storm _Kyouhei thought to himself, feeling philosophical as the skies turned gray with early evening, promising cold winds that night. The blond runaway rubbed his upper-arms apprehensively, already starting to feel the chill.

The two housemates schlepped home against the rising howl of the winds, tucking their faces into their jacket collars like nervous turtles. Once home, Sunako half-heartedly prepared some shabu shabu for dinner while the boys watched children's anime on the TV, which had gotten to working again. They ate, and the night was calm and warm and wintry, and a sleepy peacefulness enveloped the household.

"I'll be up in my room if you need me." Sunako, despite the light errands she had run, felt surprisingly winded. _It's probably just the remains of my cold making themselves known _the heiress thought blearily, curling up on a beanbag to read but instead dropping off into a light nap.

Evenings such as the one that filled the Nakahara household usually go relatively late into the night. Yes, everyone is sleepy, but they do not have the strength to doze.

Kyouhei busied himself playing the videogame he had been leveling through so enthusiastically this morning. Now it just felt like something to do. The volume was turned down as to not disturb his friends, who were engaged in a grave game of old maid, and Kyouhei felt the hunger for midnight snackage begin to paw at him like a persistent kitten wanting a pet.

The blond boy wandered in the kitchen for a while, snuffling through the pantry stores before finally settling for a bag of melon chips. Satisfied with his choice Kyouhei was about to leave the kitchen when the phone rang. The phone _never _rang. Auntie contacted them through the TV when she needed them, Noi, Machiko, and Tamao contacted their lovies via cell phone (though it wasn't like the Ojou-san contacted Ranmaru much at all), and stalkers left notes or sent emails. This was a very peculiar occurance in the household, especially at such a late hour. Curious, Kyouhei picked up the phone.

*starting now conversations that are spoken in English will be **bolded. **This only pertains to English spoken within parentheses. Conversations in Japanese will be in normal font, and may or may not be written out in Japanese or will be in English and must be assumed to have been said in Japanese*

"Moshi moshi? (hello?)" Kyouhei felt an almost girlish anxiety. How did his voice sound over the phone? What if he wasn't formal enough? How should he act if it was just a misdial or a prank call?

"**Hello?**" Kyouhei almost dropped the phone like it had bitten him. The man that answered his call into the darkness, at least he thought it was a man, was speaking in English! Who the hell did they know that spoke in _English? _Kyouhei grew visibly more panicked.

"**Who this?**" The blonde boy replied, wincing at his pronunciation. Sunako had told him he was the worst English speaker in the world many a time. The voice on the other line hesitated, probably trying to understand his broken English.

"**Oh, excuse me.**" the voice sounded sheepish. "Moshi moshi. Watashi wa Ren desu. Sunako-san desu ka? (hello, this is Ren speaking. Is this Sunako?)" Kyouhei furrowed his brow. Whoever this Ren fellow was, he had a funny accent. It reminded the blonde boy a little of Sunako's slight Hokkaido accent, and yet it was much different. Although it was perfectly fluent it was almost as if this person had not spoken Japanese for a very long time.

"No, this is one of her housemates, Kyouhei. What do you want with her?" It felt to Kyouhei as though he were speaking formally to this disembodied mysterious voice, though he was not. In fact he could easily come off as rude, but in truth he was trying to keep his sentences easy and to the point, fearing that this Ren person would not understand his Japanese.

"Ah, I see. Could you put her on the phone please?" Kyouhei was about to tell this man that he would not give the phone to her until he knew who he was speaking with, but just then Sunako came toddling down the stairs looking sleepy and refreshed.

"Kyouhei? I head the phone rang. Is it my aunt?"

"No, it's someone named Ren. 'Says he wants to talk to you."

And then something extraordinary happened. Sunako transformed fuly from her chibi form into her human one, and she smiled a glad, slightly mischievous smile, and in that moment she was the more beautiful to Kyouhei than he could manage to fathom.

Dumb with disbelief and awe Kyouhei made it easy for Sunako to take the phone from him, chesire grin stretching uncharacteristically wide across her face. As if preparing herself the recluse tucked her hair behind her ear and straightened her slightly rumpled shirt before letting out a breath she did not know she had been holding and speaking almost cautiously into the receiver.

"**Hello?**"

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So! Yes. You probably just through a cat in an oven out of furiousness. This was so obviously a filler chapter it hurt me to write it (butnotreally) yet I think that the events to come will somehow gain some forgiveness from you guys. Thanks for being amazing and reading my mindcrap, and waiting all these months for an update. I will be updating more and more frequently, and can only hope that you stay with me to the end! ='D

Btw, I finished writing this at 11:45p.m. on Friday, but didn't get around to releasing it until today. Eheh.


	5. blast from the past

Disclaimer: NO. NO I DO NOT.

Alrightyyy! This one's actually pretty short, so I hope it makes the bar for your not-so-regular SunaKyo fix. Enjoy!

**bolded words=spoken in English**

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"What happened?" Kyouhei was chasing Sunako up the stairs, tailed closely by his other three housemates. The four had been harassing her like this for several minutes now, yet even with their verbal bombardment the heiress didn't seem to hear them.

"Sunako, really." huffed Ranmaru, clambering up the steps, "What happened? Who was that on the phone?"

Just minutes ago, Kyouhei had watched in interest as Sunako talked in English to the Ren person on the other line. At first, she seemed nervous, but then she became quiet and serious. After hanging up, Sunako, her face set into an expression of deep thought, briskly began to ascend towards her abode, hence the current situation.

"Sunako-chan!" Yuki shrilled in protest, struggling up between the well-built bodies of his fellow mansion-dwellers, "What's wrong? Talk to us!"

At that moment Sunako stopped, causing the four radiant beings to crash into each other, attempting to cease their locomotion. The person who turned to them did not look much like Sunako. This Sunako looked like a girl they bumped into on the street, who turned to them upon apologizing. She tucked some hair behind her ear, distracted.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

Takenaga was the first to shake himself of stunned silence. "Who was that on the phone, Sunako-san?" The honorific sounded weird in his mouth, but with the way she was acting, it somehow seemed appropriate. The dark-haired girl turned more fully to face them.

"That was Ren." They all looked at her stupidly. Frustration pinched her eyes. "My cousin."

Tired of being regarded like she was deranged Sunako tossed her hair.

"It really doesn't concern you." And with that disgruntling statement, she breezed into her room and closed the door, leaving the others to gape like fish at her passing.

A loud silence filled the air between the four housemates.

"…did we just see Sunako ojou-sama?"

"I think we did, Yuki. I think we did."

In her bedroom, Sunako was contacting her aunt via their anywhere-anytime video chat link. After a few minutes, a face appeared on the screen.

"Nakahara-sama?" The image of a maid dressed in an all-white, double breasted serving jacket and tight white slacks leaned in towards the camera, moving a stray hair from her face.

"Hello. May I speak with my aunt? Immediately if possible."

The maid began to nod before a voice off screen called out to her.

"Ju, who are you talking to?" The maid turned towards the voice.

"Nakahara-sama, your nice is trying to reach you. I was just about to run and find you."

"Thank you, Ju. Please leave us for now." The image of the maid hurried off only to be replaced with the refined figure of Sunako's aunt, attired in a lavender fur wrap and a tasteful navy evening gown. Cerulean gleamed from a decorative comb in her hair. Surprise smoothed her features as she glimpsed her niece's face on the screen.

"Sunako...? "

"Hello auntie. There is something we must discuss."

_Ten minutes earlier…_

Sunako took the phone from Kyouhei's hand, anticipation poking its fingers into the outlets of her nervous system. There was a cold slice of fear squatting in her gut, but it tasted more like happiness than anything else. The heiress pressed the phone to her ear.

"**Hello?"**

"**Hello? Sunako? It's Ren. God, it's been so long. Listen, I wanna ask you something."**

It was him alright. Despite herself, she laughed, happy it wasn't a mistake. Just by hearing that voice that had grown so deep she was sent reeling with nostalgia, fleeting thoughts of photographs years old stashed in a dusty cabinet circling like seagulls in her mind. The hand she held the phone in shook a little with adrenaline, her voice pitching higher than usual.

"**Yeah?"**

On the other line Sunako didn't miss his heavy exhale.

"**Wait, wait. How've you been?"**

"**Fine. I'm fine."**

She could still remember how the dust motes turned golden in the sun room, and how slow and warm they had felt the New Years they had gotten into the brandy. How many years now? Two? Three?

"**Have you spoken to your parents lately?"**

Sunako shook her head as if the person on the other line could see her. This was a question she'd rather avoid.

"**Ren, how are **_**you**_**?"**

"**Amazing, per usual."**

He'd reeked of pond water after he fell into the creek and forced her to bring him towels and clothes while he hid naked behind the shed, fearing a scolding from the maids.

"**Did you just call to chat?"**

He was quiet for a moment.

"**No, I wanted to ask you something."**

"**Ask me what?"**

"**Ok ok ok. I wanted to ask you if…"**

"…**if…?"**

They had had such big gardens. Sunako's mother would chat with Ren's mother and Sunako would sit aside, watching. How beautiful they looked like that, dressed in the finest kimonos, a fan in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. The little heiress could never help but marvel at the Mona Lisa smiles hidden in the corners of their lips.

"**If you'll come to my wedding."**

…_Silence._

"**It's in a week, on the 21st."**

_Silence._

"**Yes I **_**know **_**it's last minute, but my father…well, I'll tell you later."**

_Silence._

The girl on the other line could hear it as Ren rationed his breaths so he wouldn't miss her reply when she spoke; could hear the soft scrape as he pressed the phone harder into his ear; could hear the quiet groan of plastic as he clasped the receiver ever tighter.

"**Sunako," **his voice was only a whisper, **"please say something. I know you're there."**

"…**of course I'll go, stupid."**

His laugh sounded so good on the other line, so unchanged, Sunako's heart practically _ached. _How could it have been this long since they'd talked? Sunako leaned her head against the wall. Ren segued into the wedding details, when she should come, were she'd be staying. Listening to him talk, Sunako felt almost like crying. He hadn't changed at all. How would he see her now, a creature of the dark?

"**Sunako?" **At the sound of her name on the other line, the dark-haired girl blinked out of her reverie.

"**Yeah?"**

Another exhale.

"**I'm really glad you can come."**

Sunako closed her eyes and smiled.

"**I know."**

_Later…_

Kyouhei stood outside Sunako's door, debating whether to knock or to go downstairs and play Scrabble with the others. After a moment's thought the blond boy shook his head. No, he'd already had his ass handed to him twice with a big thanks to his small vocabulary. In fact, if he listened hard enough he could still hear Takenaga and Yuki duking it out downstairs. The cheery blond was surprisingly competitive when it came to the game. Squaring his shoulders Kyouhei rapped his knuckles against the heavy door. Shuffling noises immediately emanated from the other side. A head poked out.

"What's up?"

"Uuuuuh…I could ask you the same question." Sunako's hair was braided down her shoulder and she was wearing a civilized sleeveless black shirt streaked with white pinstripes and finished with fashionable ruffles frothing at the neck. An antique silver earring set with purple jade dangled from ear, a circular chip of mother-of-pearl hanging from the other.

"I'm packing."

"You're _what_?"

Sunako opened the door to her room wider so Kyouhei could see the commotion it was in, clothes piled on every surface, travel bags heaped up to one side of her bed.

"Packing." Sunako said again.

Kyouhei tried out a few sentences before he found the right thing to say. Turning to her with the most aghast expression he could manage he asked "_Why_?"

"Because." Kyouhei made his way past her to survey the mess that was her room in full, avoiding a pantsuit strewn out on the floor. Kyouhei groped for more to say.

"Where are you going?"

"To see Ren, my-"

"Your cousin, yeah, I know. But when? And why?" Kyouhei glanced around again. "And _where_?"

"Tomorrow, because he's getting married, America."

The blond boy turned so fast he got whiplash.

"Did you say _America?"_

"I do believe I did."

"_Tomorrow?_"

It was only then that Kyouhei noticed the out-of-place something that had been niggling at him since Sunako had opened the door. She was being a completely normal, sane human being, therefore not Sunako at all. She had been out of chibi form since the phone call, and was more ojou-sama than before with her easy, nothing-to-hide demeanor.

"…are you possessed again?"

The heiress traveled across the room to fold an underbust jumper dress. "Not that I know of."

Kyouhei gave her a flat face, hands loose at his sides.

"Why are you doing this, Sunako?"

Suanko stiffened…and then smoothed in one rippling motion.

"I do not believe I know what you are implying."

"I think you know exactly what I'm implying, ojou-sama." Kyouhei's voice was like a hand gripping her arm, like the bold brush of teeth on sensitive skin. A shiver of something like pleasure shimmied down Sunako's spine.

"Kyouhei, please. I need to pack."

The blond boy nodded to himself, shoulders tight.

"Of course you do." and out he walked, leaving her amongst her various articles of clothing.

_Later…_

"To America?" Yuki, Takenaga, and Ranmaru regarded their light-haired housemate in the same surprise he'd expressed to Sunako only minutes ago.

"That's what I said!"

"And she's going there tomorrow?"

"That's what she said." The blond replied, shrugging.

They all shook their heads, disbelieving. None of them had ever traveled that far from Japan. _Ever. _

The sound of footsteps quieted them like a gag to the mouth as Sunako, dressed in a black t-shirt and jeans, padded barefoot into the family room, silent as the grave. The four others looked at her expectantly and she crossed her arms and thrust out her chin, defiant of their disdain.

"My cousin has asked me to tell you that he would like it very much if you attended his wedding on the 21st."

A stunned silence hushed the room. Invited? To Ren's wedding? They didn't even know the man.

"…in America?" Sunako turned to Yuki, surprised, but not annoyed.

"Yeah, of course. That's where he lives."

Takenaga shucked a hand through his hair. "Do we have to pack tonight?"

"That, or tomorrow morning." Sunako replied, nodding.

"I'll have to call Noi, we have a date tomorrow…"

"Don't worry, she'll be coming too."

The four boys looked at her in shock.

"And Tamao?"

"Also invited, but actually through a separate invitation. My cousin's business works with Tamao's father's business, so she was invited that way."

"How does your cousin know all of us?" Kyouhei asked, voice tight with alarm and anger. Sunako lolled her head to one side and shrugged one shoulder.

"He talked with my aunt. You can all respectfully decline the invitation if you'd like to. Both Noi and Tamao have already agreed to go."

Sunako picked spilled popcorn from the cracks in the sofa while the boys conferred with one another, murmuring softly so the dark-haired heiress could only pick out bits and pieces.

"…packing tonight? Always could…"

"…acting like an _ojou-sama _all the time…"

"…chance to meet him."

Takenaga was the one who turned to express the product of their meeting. When Sunako noticed they were finished she stood and raised an eyebrow.

"So, what's the verdict?"

The only child of the prestigious Oda family sucked in a breath for effect.

"We have decided…to go."

Sunako dragged a small waste basket over with her foot and tossed the discarded popcorn in.

"Great. Pack tonight or tomorrow morning. If you need suitcases we have plenty downstairs; I'll show you where they are." and with that invigorated declaration, Sunako promptly exited the room to attend her own agenda. Once they were sure the recluse was out of hearing range, the four jumped up, laughing and exclaiming with great gusto.

"Yeah! We're going to America, bitches!" Kyouhei laughed, roping and arm around Takenaga's shoulders and half strangling him in the process.

"Who are you calling a bitch?" Ranmaru started, but was drowned out with Yuki's animated shout of "Imma eat a HOTDOG. I WILL."

Much hollering and arm-waving ensued.

_Later…_

It had been a long night. Kyouhei didn't own much besides the clothes he wore when we was lumping around (jeans, thread-bare t-shirt, sweatpants) and his school uniform, but what little else he did own he made sure to pack. It was all too apparent to him that he would probably have to borrow some stuff from Ranmaru and Takenaga once they were in America (Yuki's clothes were too small on him), but he packed his nice navy blue silk button-up and his black chinos just in case he had to appear presentable at some point or another.

It was only when he was making his way back from the bathroom, clad in a t-shirt and striped pajama bottoms that he felt the aura outside Sunako's door.

The auras Sunako let off usually did a capital job of royally freaking him the hell out, but it was different this time. He'd been around her so much he'd developed the divine talent of being able to read her 'vibes', and he knew what he felt wasn't anger or flat-out creepiness as the gooseflesh stroked a shiver down his skin. Something was off. The aura was nervous, frustrated. It mourned against him as he moved closer to the door, hesitating, as he always did, before opening the door.

Sunako crouched in the middle of her room, her limbs tangled. One fist was pressed against her forehead, arm obscuring her face, while the left hand came across her chest to tightly grip her right shoulder. Alarmed, Kyouhei advanced.

"Sunako."

As he came closer he could see that her eyes were tightly shut, her teeth gritted. The blond crouched next to her.

"Sunako, what's wrong? You're letting off vibes again." Instead of answering, the balled-up, dark-haired mass that reminded Kyouhei more of a crippled spider teetered and fell upon its side with a quiet thump, even more pathetic-looking than it was to begin with. Confused as to what action to take, Kyouhei gingerly laid a hand on her shoulder, which remained pale and exposed on account of her purple nightshirt and its oversized, stretched-out collar. The feverish warmth of her skin sent Kyouhei's heart to his throat and his stomach clenched accordingly. At his touch Sunako let out a small whine in the back of her throat that sounded more like a whimper than anything. The blond boy tasted worry in his mouth as he hauled up the heiress' curled form and pulled her flush against him, eliciting another high pitched groan from said curled form.

"Sunako, Sunako, what happened?" he vaguely remembered his own mother comforting him like this after an especially rough day of fighting, laying a hand on his head to stroke his hair just as he noticed he was mimicking with Sunako. Her dark hair was smooth against his calloused palm.

"I've changed." It took the blond boy a moment to process that it was Sunako who had spoken. The voice that came out of her, so high and forced, sounded foreign and unreal.

"What?"

"I've changed." It came out more like a sob this time, and he noticed she began to shake a bit, as if she was crying. Kyouhei decided that silence was the best answer until Sunako tried to elaborate.

"My cousin, Ren. When I talked to him on the phone, h-he, he hadn't changed at all. And just look at me!" The last part came out shrilly as Sunako brought her hands to cover her face, shaking even more, crying but not crying. "I've changed so much. What if he doesn't l-like me? What he doesn't like the way I a-am?" she stuttered, pushing the words past her teeth like lies she didn't want to surrender. Kyouhei rocked back thoughtfully on his heels before resorting to sitting with his legs straight out, Sunako pulled half into his lap with her head pressed into his chest by his hand.

"So _that's _why you're being lady-like all of a sudden."

Sunako nodded weakly and the blond boy sighed.

"Sunako, you don't have to become some big fake ojou-sama. If your cousin doesn't like you, he can fuck off."

They both sat in a contemplating silence for a moment before Sunako began to detangle herself from her blond companion's grasp. Instead of letting go Kyouhei pulled her closer, closer, until his grip was no longer that of a boy comforting a girl. Sunako went rigid before relaxing (with effort) in his arms, now almost completely on his lap, her legs thrown out helter-skelter in front of her. Timidly she pressed a wrist to her nose to block the blood flow.

Kyouhei was having his own issues. Hormones ran as high as his ears as he clutched the girl in his arms. She felt so brittle, so feminine against his chest it was ludicrous, unreasonable. In the few shojos he'd read he knew about how a girl was always supposed to feel so soft when the boy first touched her. Sunako was never like that. Sunako was not soft, or sweet, or clumsy. Sunako was sharp and tart and precise, and would never take his shit for as long as he lived. He knew, somehow, that it was not fair of him to hold her like this. She wasn't ready for him, not right now. Right now she was worried and aggravated with her cousin and their itinerary and kami knows what else, and he wanted the Sunako he knew, a twist of raw licorice, not a strawberry.

A watery snuffle broke him from his reverie and he released his captive, who promptly rushed up to clear her nose with tissues.

"Sorry," she was muttering, "sorry."

Kyouhei rolled up from his current position and stretched, the hem of his shirt hiking up to reveal lean abdominal muscles and a small line of dark blond hair starting from the bottom of his belly button and disappearing under the waistband of his pajamas.

"No issues." he replied on the edge of a yawn, scruffing a hand through his hair. Sunako pinched the bridge of her nose with both hands to make sure the flow was clotted before casting about for or a robe or something to cover her in her dark purple shirt and black boxer shorts. Kyouhei flapped a hand at her before covering a second yawn with the back of his arm.

"Welp! I'm going to bed. 'Night Sunako!" he called, schlepping sleepily out of her room and closing the door with a click behind him. Sunako stood in silence for a moment, only just grasping the current situation.

"Good night."

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Yyyyyeah, so there was some swearing in this chapter, sorry if it happened to inconvenience any sheltered pairs of ears. I just recently realized this was rated T, so I decided to make the most of that *waggles eyebrows* This took forever to get out, as usual. I thank his noodly goodness that I finally got this out though, because this was the last part of the fanfiction that I didn't have planned out prior to writing it. Theoretically speaking, the fic should be smooth sailing from now on (at least for me.) Hope you enjoyed and clicked the little box in the bottom left corner of your computer that gives a lot of love to this poor fanfic writer. You're all fabulous!

Lots o' love,

ShreddingRibbons


	6. toilet talk

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the commercial characters, products, documents, or otherwise under any type of copywrite label. (PFFFFFFT.)

**Bolded=spoken in English**

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Yukinojo Toyama lay awake, listening to the muted sounds of early morning. The others, as far as he could tell, were not up yet. If they had been, there probably would have been an endless murmuring emanating from downstairs interrupted occasionally by a snapped remark from a certain dark-haired heiress.

Yuki stretched and turned on his side, snuggling deeper into the cooler part of his pillow. Machiko sent him an email yesterday, telling him what she was up to. Yuki knew it sounded clingy and weak of heart, but he wished he Skyped more with his girlfriend. He wished they could go out like they used to, eat ice cream, watch movies. _Maybe not movies, _the blond boy corrected himself, for Machiko had grown quite fond of zombies after borrowing a movie from Sunako some months ago.

Yuki always liked how welcome he felt amongst his housemates. They were always goofing off and doing insane or adventurous things. But sometimes, his fellow four were so wrapped up in themselves it boggled the mind. Ranmaru was always having lady issues, which the rest of the household called 'to tamao or not to tamao'. Takenaga was surrounded by girlfriend stress and worries, with Noi riding on his back (not her fault) while he struggled with school work (completely his fault.) Kyouhei was a world worse than the other two, between conflicting emotions for a girl as messed up as he was and a past too dark to see, he always had a one-way ticket to Pissed Off in his pocket. That being said, Kyouhei had always been a good friend; they all had. Even Sunako, whose tendencies Yuki wouldn't even get started on, had been there for him. In fact, he thought that perhaps Sunako understood him better than he thought, understood all of them better than they thought. The blond boy even believed she understood _herself _better than any of them assumed.

Then, of course, there was Yuki. Short, simple little Yuki with his hometown girlfriend and his optimism and picturesque suburban family. No one thought he stood a chance. He was the middle child of the Big, Fat, and Extremely Obvious Baggage family; the equilibrium of the jagged and unprecedented ups and downs of the people he lived with. In reality, Yukinojo was actually the oldest of all the teens living in the Nakahara household. Not by much, only a few months of course, but he really was the oldest. His feelings being as they were, he didn't mind his companions' apparent misconceptions. Yuki didn't mind being taken for granted sometimes, because he knew he who was. He was the 'normal one'. And he was loved.

So when Ranmaru came barging through the door, unplugged flat iron in his hand, singing in a faux opera fashion for Yuki to get up before he dunked him in a bathtub full of water so cold his ghost would feel it, he laughed and struggled out from underneath his coverlet, whipping a Power Rangers action figure in the red-head's general direction. Sometimes, chaos becomes the peace.

_**Any**__way…_

By the time the radiant four finally toddled down the stairs at the ungodly hour of four in the morning Sunako was already waiting, suited up in jeans, a black tee with the word "insanity" written in faded white type-writer script, and a dove gray knit poncho. Behind her an assortment of duffels, suitcases, and backpacks were heaped in a vaguely neat sort of way, all tagged with personal information and such and such.

After explaining the extremely sleepy-looking teens how the trip was essentially going to go Sunako herded the four into the kitchen for a light breakfast of eggs and rice.

"Just in case you puke while we're in the air." she explained, garnishing four bowls with chopped green onions, "That way you won't have very much to cough up."

Ranmaru, characteristically a bad flier, turned green at the thought of it, but ate the eggs and rice and wheedled a small portion of leftover beef broth out of Sunako, who seemed oddly distracted in a pair of very dark sunglasses.

"Sunako," he asked, genuinely intrigued, "are you hung-over? Did you go out drinking last night?"

"I wish." Sunako muttered in answer. In truth, Sunako had stayed up the whole night being a psycho, packing and unpacking, checking and rechecking, finally ending her evening with a frantic search for the pictures of her and her cousins she suddenly yearned for, at last finding them and shuffling through them until she couldn't keep conscious and remotely sane at the same time. That morning she awoke no later than three with hideous bags under her eyes and a more-amped-than-normal aversion to all types of light. It was, to say the _very _least, going to be an excruciatingly long day.

At long last the four boys scarfed down the last of their breakfast, sniffed about for snackage without success (there were only crackers and some dry fruit), and checked their rooms for stray belongings they might've liked to bring along on the trip. At precisely 4:42 a.m. and not a second after or before two very slick, very expensive family-owned limousines purred into the circle drive of the Nakahara mansion. A butler that the boys had not seen before, trim and tidy as a well-made pocket watch attired in all gray to match his gray moustache and silver tie pin ticked his way with measured steps up to the intricately carved, ivory inlaid double doors and wrapped thrice quite briskly upon them.

Sunako greeted the orderly manservant with a brief, almost curt nod of her head and a muttered name of familiarity. As if on cue, a score of obviously lesser yet just as neat Nakahara henchman strutted through the doors with an admirable grace and carried the luggage from the heap to the limos with the efficiency of worker ants. In minutes what had once been a gargantuan heap of crap was completely diminished, and the five teenagers were lead, instead of ushered, out of the house and into their respective vehicles.

Yuki and Takenaga (despite himself) bounced ahead of Kyouhei and Ranmaru, shouting something about champagne and "…just like in the movies!" while Sunako surveyed the whole affair from behind and whispered something the Gray Butler Man, who clicked his heel like an army officer (which he very well might have been) to show he understood. Kyouhei fell back from Ranmaru to talk to Sunako a little, which seemed to be something she had become allergic to, especially with him, in the past couple of hours.

"Hey, creepy guts, this is great. You should call up these guys to clean our house sometimes, or, better yet, to give us massages. I bet they give great massages."

"Shiatsu, most likely." Sunako replied distractedly, leaning away from him a little to peer at something he couldn't see.

"I've been wondering, though."

"Don't hurt yourself."

"Shut up. Anyway, I've been wondering why we need two limos. Do we really have that much sh-" a nearby Gray Butler Man cast Kyouhei a sharp look, "junk?"

"Mmm, kind of. I got the other limo because that's the one I'll be riding in."

Kyouhei opened his mouth to feign confusion, but shut it again.

"You mean you're not," he let out a weak, abrupt laugh, "you're not going to be riding with us? Are you suddenly too good for us, Nakahara? Is this all part of that 'changed' bullshit you were spewing last night?"

"Don't be a fucking idiot Kyouhei. I expected you to be the last person to give me shit, seeing as how you're always just _itching _to get the hell away." Sunako snapped.

The abrasive tone of her voice combined with her excessive swearing stunned Kyouhei into momentary silence.

"I know you aren't the biggest fan of me normally, so I expected this to be a fine fucking change for you. Yet apparently, I can't keep you, or my aunt, or anybody else in this goddamn world happy. So guess what? You get a dream trip to America where you can go wherever you want and do whatever you want because it all goes on someone else's tab. I need to act like this right now, it doesn't change who I really am, and I don't think you really have any place telling me how to act or how to dress or who to be. If I want to act like a horrible princess bitch you better bet I'm damn well gonna buy that dress and tiara."

With one final, extremely un-lady-like hand gesture Sunako floated to her limousine with a grace that Kyouhei had witnessed on only a handful of occasions, an easy poise that had obviously been drilled into her through years of standard Nakahara breeding, her half-braided hair swishing one last time in the morning air before she folded fluidly into the back of the limousine, Gray Butler Man closing the gleaming car door smoothly after her.

Kyouhei had never been more attracted to anybody in his _life._

Obviously, of course, the blatant attraction (which he hoped his jeans hid well) gave way to an angry red wave of frustration and the suffocating feeling of having one's intentions being so utterly misunderstood. The boy of Elysian beauty stewed for the entire ride to the airstrip, drinking down glass after glass of (very) watered-down whiskey until he became put-out and self-pitying. Ranmaru murmured to him in soothing tones, completely oblivious to what had happened between him and the temperamental heiress, just as Takenaga and Yuki were. Sunako had stated her very vicious case in almost completely level tones, so there was no shouting to overhear. Kyouhei hadn't even managed to recover enough to yell something back.

_Later…_

Auntie was waiting for them at the airport.

Signature killer coif swirling in the light December wind the 'woman a thousand men would die for' stood like a tyrant surveying her lands at the top of the stairs to the private plane, erected in a certain stance that none of the boys recognized but Sunako had come to know very well.

"So it's true." she murmured, half to Sebastian, who was standing dutifully behind her, and half to herself. She watched Sunako glide with a delicate composure from the limo up the steps of the stairs, the boys lagging behind to conspire about something involving how much booze they thought would be safe to consume over the course of this trip.

"Oba-san, you look beautiful." The heiress leaned in to kiss her guardian on the cheek.

"As usual." the fashionable woman agreed, raising an eyebrow as she studied Sunako from the top curve of her twisted-back bangs to her simple lace-up boots with the gleaming brass eyelets. "So it's true, hm? You've taken up the art again?"

"The art of acting, yes."

"We all act, sweetheart. It's how good you are that really wins you the award." Sunako repaired her slightly slipping posture as her aunt fingered the soft wool of her poncho. "If I had known you could summon up your lessons so easily I wouldn't have even bothered with inviting those four idiots into our home."

"One never really forgets." Sunako replied more bitterly than she meant to.

"Hey Auntie, is this one yours?" Kyouhei was hollering from the base of the stairs, which he began to ascend at a swinging pace, arms akimbo. Once he and the other teens were finally inside the plane Auntie deigned to reply to his question.

"No, actually. This is Sunako's plane."

With something like death glinting in their eyes the four boys turned to look at Sunako.

"You had a plane this _entire time, _and you didn't TELL US?"

Sunako smiled sheepishly at them, and then frowned.

"If you guys didn't set all those Asian beetles on my garden that one time I might have mentioned it." This comment was referring to the time Ranmaru, Takenaga, Yuki, and Kyouhei had released a plague of varying varmints upon Sunako's flower and vegetable gardens to get back at her for loading bricks in all their pillows and mattresses. This statement, as it was intended to do, caused a fit of all-out bickering between her and the boys, and it was at this time, and no other, that Kyouhei realized that the reason that Sunako had confronted him in the way she had before was to show him that it was all an act. No real ojou-sama of any age, shape, or size would dare use such foul language to a 'lesser being', especially not in a public place where servants were close-enough to eavesdrop. To top it all off, no ojou-sama, at any point in time or in any situation would gesture so crudely at another human being as Sunako had to Kyouhei.

With a new found admiration of his female housemate Kyouhei told Sunako she looked like a diseased, mal-formed goat creature and proceeded to step on her feet whenever he passed her way.

_Later…_

The flight to America was wearing the lot of them quite thin. Sunako had sunk into a deeper and deeper funk while reading _The Harrowing _for the third time, Ranmaru had spilled two cups of coffee on his khakis, and Auntie's ever-bouncy coif had begun to sag.

"Perhaps," the one-eighth-monarch murmured wearily, "perhaps, Sunako, we should get you changed and make a few courtesy phone-calls before we reach the coveted US of A. We should also probably do a little English practice. You haven't spoken for quite a while."

"**Auntie, I'm fine.**"

"**You are **_**not **_**fine. You're speaking too monotone. Ah, but that was always an issue when you were learning, wasn't it?**" the older woman tsked, shaking her head with her hand on her cheek.

"Oba-san, no."

"Sunako," her guardian's eyes brought a warning that Sunako was not prepared for, "think of Akane."

The four boys looked on in awe as whatever color that was left in Sunako's face drained and her features hardened, her mouth pressing into a thin line. With movements that seemed deliberately delicate Sunako marked her page, closed her book, and followed her aunt behind a magenta curtain that separated the in-flight conference area from the rest of the extremely luxurious plane.

Kyouhei took the liberty of voicing the sole question of the four.

"What. The hell. Was that."

"That," murmured a voice they had not deigned to pay attention to before, "was something you should probably be explained before we land, amongst other things."

A maid dressed in a double-breasted black sweater with buttons of brass and her brown hair in a simple ponytail was preparing her two employers coffee, her back to the now-intrigued boys.

"What would those things be?" Charm tolled like a deep bell in Ranmaru's voice.

"Things that could be very dangerous to you if you are not cautioned about them before hand." It was Sebastian talking now. He had seemingly stepped from the shadows, his usually meek and peaceful face now lined with the graveness of the situation. "You see, the Nakahara's and the Tsukiyomis, Sunako's mother's family, have very complicated relationships between themselves and the outside world."

"As of course you can imagine." the maid added, searching for creamer in the plane fridge.

The four boys shifted awkwardly in their seats toward the two to show them they were listening. None of them, not even Ranmaru with all his connections, had heard but a drop of gossip about the Nakaharas. Sebastian muttered something about "memory books" to the maid as she drizzled caramel on top of the coffees before settling rigidly into the seat that Sunako had once occupied, retrieving and deftly folding the gray poncho she had cast off some hours ago.

"Now, I've asked Ju to bring us something to work with, but for now I'll try the best I can to sum it all up. Sunako has three different suitors that you will meet and must be as sweet as honey to. The first is Arata Kichida. His father's company is a sister company to Sunako's father's company. Seeing as she will be seeing and dealing with him a lot in the future, as they are both heirs to these companies, their parents thought it was a good match." Sebastian's eyes flickered to Kyouhei's, "It is. Secondly there is Daichi Yamashita. He is the supposed 'next in line' for the gargantuan Umi Inc., the company Sunako's grandfather on her mother's side owned and his father owned before him. Because inheriting commonly goes through the father and not the mother the company is supposed to be Daichi's, but legally Sunako is next line to inherit Umi Inc."

"Are they related?" Takenaga asked with a touch of disgust.

"Distantly." Sebastian replied vaguely. "Then of course Yori Endo comes third."

"Do I sense a hint of contempt in your voice?" Kyouhei asked somewhat gleefully. Sebastian just frowned.

"You do. The Endos have been strong enemies of the Nakaharas for a little under a century, and this engagement is a long time coming."

"A Romeo and Juliet story?" Takenaga queried, organizing salted peanuts into a rows on his napkin.

"If you'd like to call it that." Sebastian's frown only deepened. "This is a very dangerous path, confirmed or unconfirmed. It is a surprise to any and all that the Endos even proposed it, which makes it that much more suspicious. Yori Endo, though it pains me to say it, is by far the most talented of the three. He is clever, charming, and he knows how to play the game." Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "His father made sure of that."

An odd and foreboding darkness settled over the five men. Suddenly Sebastian slapped his knees, signature smile drawing different wrinkles on his face.

"Well! That's enough of that. Besides a few odd scandals that were swept neatly under the carpet all you need to know, and I mean _all _you need to know are in the family profile albums Ju is fetching."

"What about Akane?" Kyouhei interjected.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean what do I mean? I mean the Akane that Auntie whispered to Sunako in her spooky voice that made her go into complete robot mode."

Sebastian rubbed his hand across his mustache a few times. "Ohhh, that Akane. I can tell you about her. To go about how milady likes to tell it, it started-"

"-twenty-two looong years ago. Thank you, Sebastian, but I think the best person to tell it in the fashion of your lady is your lady." Oba-san stood in the doorway, Sunako stooped behind her, her aura flashing with vibrancy women _half_ her age couldn't hope to achieve. "Now, let's see, how old was I when all this started…?"

"Oba-san's not really going to tell us her age is she?" Yuki asked, bewildered.

Auntie eyed him. "I recall I was _young_ when Akane was born."

"Ah Oba-san," Kyouhei whined, sagging in his seat, "young could be anywhere from 2 to 30 with you."

"Are you saying I am no longer young?" the fashionista asked a little too sweetly.

"N-no, I just-"

"Good," she sang, "because if you can't shut your mouth I'll have to find someone else to shut it for you, and we wouldn't want that, would we?" Her bubbly giggle was executed to the utmost perfection.

Ju made a big production of staggering through the door with a heavy-looking stack of leather binders, which prompted Auntie to ask her if perhaps the load was so heavy because Ju had grabbed a couple of books with only deceased people in them. Ju staggered back out again, visibly more forlorn than before.

"_Any_way," Auntie began again, pinning Kyouhei with a hard look, "when I was young Akane was born to my mother's second husband's third mistress, who later became his second wife. This makes her, through very complicated connections, my step half sister. I was already living out of the house by the time she was 'gifted'-Auntie made air quotes-to this Earth. Now usually, when _accidents _like this occur, they end up living in sweetly trimmed apartments with college degrees their daddies bought them and jobs doing small parts in soap operas on the side. With Akane, sadly, this was not the case. She must've known, blindly, at some time in her adolescent life, that her future held something of what I have just described. But she wouldn't have it.

"Akane was around eighteen when she finally dug in her claws. Her mother was dead, found her peace at the bottom of a pill bottle, and her daddy was out gambling whatever he had off every night at the local casino. We didn't even know this demon child existed until she showed up screaming that she was my mother's daughter, born in wedlock and therefore with just as much right to my parents' fortune as me. Obviously, we laughed in her face. But Akane had done some digging on the family, and Akane had made herself publicly known enough that if she died someone would notice, and that someone would point the finger at us. It was agreed that Akane would inherit a remote share of my great aunt's fortune when she died. The problem that remains is that Akane is much too strong a power in our family. She rips down competition through means some of us don't even know."

"They call her the Red Lady." The six other people in the room jumped simultaneously when Sunako spoke. Her voice was soft, but the hate behind it was so sinister and real Kyouhei felt the hairs of his arms stand to attention. "She takes men, and she ruins them by any means necessary. It's how she keeps us scared."

"Sunako's right. When we get to this wedding, each and every one of you need to watch out for her. You don't know what she's like, you can't even imagine."

Ranmaru shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Well," Auntie said, standing, "I've got a few more things that need to be taken care of, but I strongly advise you to look over the albums Ju brought in. They may keep you from some very unexpected and possibly dangerous embarrassments."

A certain sense of adventure and anticipation, covered by a thin film of fear, quivered between the Nakahara four. They looked about for Ju and Sebastian to question them further, but they were gone, and when they looked to Sunako they saw she was curled up in a ball of hate so tight she couldn't even see them.

_Later…_

The landing wasn't too bumpy, seeing as the one that landed in California for a break had been much bumpier. Yuki, Takenaga, Kyouhei, and Ranmaru went about sleepily collecting their things from the cabin as the plane taxied to an unloading area. Yuki whined about having to pop his ears as Ranmaru tried his best to smooth down his red hair which had taken to sticking up after an impromptu nap. About twenty minutes before landing Sunako had disappeared back into the in-flight conference room to change into more "suitable" clothing, her funk now as thick as molasses and tar.

Herded carefully by Ju and Sebastian the four smoothed their rumpled clothing and began to descend down the plane stairs, pausing at the foot to wait for the two lady passengers. Eventually, Auntie floated down the stairs in a white dress that looked somehow too young for her, followed closely by Sunako with a lackluster air.

Sunako herself had on a purple blouse and a black pencil skirt that made way for her boots. Her hair was slicked into a glossy ponytail, with her bangs pinned back into a pouf reminiscent of Vogue magazine's new favorite style.

At the other end of the docking strip, five men were waiting for him.

"There's Ren." Sunako said, pointing, "I don't know if his fiancé's here or not."

"What's his fiancé's name?" Ranmaru asked, surprisingly amiable.

"Félix." Sunako started towards them.

"Sunako, I'm probably wrong, but isn't Félix a guy's name?" Ranmaru felt stupid for being so unworldly.

Sunako slid her sunglasses over her eyes, although there was no sun.

"Yes," she murmured, "it is."

wordswordssurprisetwist!words

I know I haven't released a new chapter in a long time apologies apologies self-damaging joke yatta yatta yatta. I really do apologize for the Yuki character analysis at the beginning of this chapter, but a lot of people were complaining about him being left out of my story a lot, so I thought I would put that in there. I hope you all know that the next installment of Underwearing _is _coming soon, no matter what my past records say, and that I love you all with a passion you can't even fathom. I hope you all clicked the box in the left of your screen that sends this lame-o a whole lotta love, because you know I'd do the same for you.

Let me have your babies,

ShreddingRibbons


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